Abhorsen
by Rhiw
Summary: AU."I am a necromancer," Harry answered cautiously, "But not of the common sort, while others of the art raise the dead, I lay them to rest - or try to - and those that will not rest I bind." HP/Old Kingdom Crossover.
1. Of Deaths and Childhood

**Disclamer:** I don't own anything recognizable.

**Warnings: **Necromancer!Harry, possible Slytherin!Harry, slightly spoiled!Harry, socially inept!Harry, abusive!Dursleys, semi-Manpulative!Dumbledore, Possible!Snarry or Severitus, death, dead things, violence, cursing. Hope you like Neville, he'll be in this quite a bit.

OKAY - I said no slash. Basically because I didn't want to write a youthful!Snarry. Cause...well, yeah. Pedophilia is bad. However, it seems since I planned this story to be Snarry for my dearest friends who challenged me to do this crossover - and they live freaken right next to me and harass me about updating it and returning it to Snarry an **UNGODLY **amount. It is, once again, a **possible Snarry**._** HOWEVER** - there will be **NO PEDOPHILIA** in this fic_. Any romance between the two will not be happening until Harry is seventeen or older.

_The Cover Art is done by **Wombat**, over at DeviantArt, under the title of The Falls at Abhorsen's Art._

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**So here's the basic information for those of you haven't read the Old Kingdom Trilogy and a review for those who have.** This will all be explained in the story by the characters, but here's to try and keep the confusion down until things can be addressed.

I read somewhere that Garth Nix hinted that his two worlds, the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre, were each somehow parallel worlds or dimensions situated right next to each other and separated by a wall. In my story, there is another parallel world, this one to the north of the Old Kingdom, capping it almost. And that's the HP world.

**The Old Kingdom** is a large area that is in a very different, separate space then **Ancelstierre** and the **HP world.** Time works differently there – one could spend weeks there in the dead of winter and come over one of the Walls to find only a few days have passed and it the heat of summer. To the north is the **Breaching Wall** and behind it the **HP world**. There has been no contact between the two worlds in over a thousand years. To the south is **the** **Wall**, separating it from **Ancelstierre.**

**Ancelstierre **is to the south of **the Old Kingdom** and the majority of the country is very much like the Muggle eighteen hundreds. Save those who live close to **the Wall** (especially if the wind is blowing from **the Old Kingdom** which has a tendency to make anything electronic fail) most of the inhabitants don't believe in magic.

The **HP**** world** is to the north of **the Old Kingdom**, Over the **Breaching Wall**. They have forgotten **the Old Kingdom** and how to do **Charter magic** through drawing **Charter symbols** and have developed **Wizardry** to access **Free magic**, a different type of magic then **Charter magic**. The **HP world** is referred to as **the Northern Kingdom** by citizens of **the Old Kingdom** and **Ancelstierre**. **The Northern Kingdom** is huge compared to its southern counterparts, including the rest of Earth.

After this chapter and part of the next one, you pretty much won't deal with the Old Kingdom or Ancelstierre. Just about everything in this story will take place in the HP world and on (mostly familiar) ground.

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"For everything and everyone there is a time to die. Some do not know it, or would delay it, but its truth cannot be denied. Not when you look into the stars of the ninth gate."

- Garth Nix, Sabriel

**Abhorsen**

**Chapter 1  
**

_Of Deaths_

1981 – October 31st

The boy in Nuriel's arms was still, bright green eyes staring blankly up at him. Nuriel shifted the still form, noting the soft flush of black down on the babe's head. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the child that he had so painstakingly searched out.

The Clayr had come to him, speaking nonsense and riddles in the way that all those with the Sight did and had sent him on a great mission to the World Over the Breaching Wall. A visit from the Clayr was never a favorable omen and Nuriel hadn't been disappointed.

"_The wind blows foul from Over the Breaching Wall." The blonde woman had said softly, staring to the north as if by some power she could see the Wall that kept the two worlds separated. _

"_I dreamed of him as well." Nuriel grudgingly admitted. "The dark man. He will not come here, regardless of what power he may have." _

_The Clayr woman sent him a shrewd look. "So certain are we of that, Abhorsen?"_

"_No one has crossed Over the Breaching Wall in over a thousand years. I think it's safe to say the Northern Kingdom has forgotten us." The Clayr woman simply hummed to herself, watching the waterfall that roared angrily down the river. The silence stretched and Nuriel felt his patience snap. "I assume that there is more that you wish to speak with me about?" _

"_It is not of the dark man we have dreamt of." The words were soft, whispered and easily carried away by the noise of the water. A hand rested itself a top his own, terribly tan against the pallid of his own and he turned, finding himself staring into earnest grey eyes. Nuriel felt himself stand a little straighter underneath the weight he found there._

"_In a month a child will be slain. Guide him from death and the Abhorsen line will be reconstituted in the World Over the Breaching Wall. Leave him to his death and the World there will be lost. Should that happen…" The Clayr's voice faded off for a moment, her eyes glazing over slightly. "…dark clouds will spread from the north." _

_Nuriel pursed his lips. Over two thousand years ago the Abhorsen had sent an off branch of their clan to the World Over the Breaching Wall. Unlike the Wall that separated Ancelstierre from the Old Kingdom, the Breaching Wall was nearly impossible to cross. Eventually the line they'd sent over had died out – or forgotten. Either way, their descendants no longer walked in Death._

"_And I suppose you'd rather like me to go after him." _

"_The choice is always your own, Abhorsen." _

"_Of course it is." Nuriel said dryly. What other choice did he have but to go after his errant cousin? Turning towards the hatch that would lead him to his office, Nuriel punted the small black cat that was watching the conversation with great interest. He ignored the Clayr woman completely. She would see herself out. Besides, he had much planning to do if he was going to make it Over the Breaching Wall in a month. _

He had read stories of this world, recorded in great detail from one distant aunt or another. Still, it had been over a thousand years since one of their kind crossed Over the Breaching Wall that kept their worlds divided. Nuriel hadn't quite known what to expect when he reached the other side (or if he would reach the other side) and what he saw there had confused him.

The culture on this side of the Breaching Wall was bizarre as it was fascinating. They seemed to have forgotten the Kingdoms that lay south. In fact they seemed to have forgotten that _any_ of the parallel worlds even existed. The culture here was a strange one – a mix between both Ancelstierre and Old Kingdom. Both ancient and modern in its interstices. There was apparently even a large portion of their population that lived without any knowledge of magic at all. It was all to bizarre for him to comprehend.

Yet strangest of all was how they worked their magic.

They no longer called themselves Charter Mages, in fact, they didn't even seem to use Charter magic at all. Instead these…_Wizards_ wielded Free magic. Nuriel could smell its stench all around him here, far stronger then he'd ever encountered in either of the two Kingdoms on the other side of the Breaching Wall. They didn't wield Free magic themselves, though apparently it was possible (wandless magic, the Abhorsen thought with a smirk of incredibility, as if wands had anything to do with it) but rather used their wands to protect themselves and channel the often destructive force.

Being away from the flow of Charter magic made Nuriel uncomfortable – similar to how he felt the few times he'd ventured into Ancelstierre. The southern most Kingdom was almost completely devoid of magic. The further from the Wall that separated the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre the less magic one could even feel, much less use. At least here magic existed in some form; even if it was rampant Free magic. Besides, the Charter could still be felt here. One simply had to focus harder.

As it stood, Nuriel was hard pressed to find a need for the Abhorsen line to reestablish itself here. As far as he could tell the Dead didn't rise like they did in the Old Kingdom. Perhaps they occasionally walked if called upon but the Abhorsen's (admittedly limited) excursion into this world had shown they were not the problem they were in the Southern Kingdoms. But the Clayr had _Seen_, and it was a foolish Abhorsen that failed to take heed of them. Even if they did get their 'whens' confused.

The child may not even be needed for another few decades, or perhaps it wasn't even this child they saw but one of his descendants. It mattered little. Regardless of what the Clayr had seen it was Nuriel's duty to find his long lost cousin and train him in the ways of Death. And Nuriel was never one to skirt his duties.

It had taken him long – almost too long – to learn to navigate this Wizarding society and find the boy of the Clayr's dreams. There seemed to be a war going and (to his dismay and great annoyance) his long lost cousin seemed to be targeted. They had hidden him well, Nuriel had had to walk extensively in Death to find where the child was.

The Abhorsen brought out a bottle of oil from his pocket, leaning down into the still smoldering timber and coating his fore finger with wood ash. He traced a charter mark on his forehead, feeling it flare against his own marking. He held the bottle aloft, slowing beginning the long chant that was the Charter. It listed all things that lived or grew, or once lived, or would live again…

Charter magic was hard across from the Breaching Wall and he felt sweat break across his brow as he held the spell steady. Regretfully Nuriel had arrived too late for the boy's family – the killing curse that had been used on them had sent their souls beyond the Ninth Gate of Death. Far beyond Nuriel's reach. The stench of Free magic from the spells were so strong Nuriel could taste it – metallic and rough in his mouth. He felt his stomach lurch in protest at being surrounded by so much of it, a steady wave of nausea causing him to sway slightly as he stood.

Something had gone wrong when the spell had been cast on the boy. It had killed the infant – but only slightly. He could feel the child's soul just on the other side of Death, the flesh in his arms warm despite the stillness of the small chest. Somehow the child was still connected to life. There was still hope if the Charter accepted the boy's baptism.

Nuriel pressed the bottle of oil to his forehead, the charter symbol drawn there in wood ash flashing before he upended the bottle on the child. There was a burst of light that blinded him momentarily but Nuriel spoke through it.

"By the Charter that binds all things, I name thee-" Nuriel hesitated, what was the babe's name? He glanced up at the gaudy wooden alphabet plates nailed to the wall. He felt his nose wrinkle in distaste as he read it. He could give the boy a much better one. "Hariel."

The wood ash disappeared from his forehead, forming on the child's own. It glowed brightly in the small space; the sign of a strong soul. The Charter had accepted the baptism. Nuriel let out a small breath he hadn't realized he was holding and set the child down in the crib before him. The Charter would protect the babe's soul from being drained or tainted by being in Death.

Nuriel stepped from the crib and slipped easily into Death. The chill filled the room steadily, penetrating his limbs in a way that no other cold could ever do. For a split second Nuriel could see his own breath in front of him and then when he opened his eyes once more it was the grayscale of Death that greeted him.

He glanced around and immediately waded into the knee deep water of the First Precinct, peering through the twilight to try and find the babe. He could still feel the warmth of Life on his back and he clung to it, using it to fortify his steps as he made his way through the river with practiced steps. It was easy – far too easy – to step into Death here and far too hard to summon Charter magic. He loosened his sword and after a moment's consideration his hand traveled the bandolier that rested across his chest, fingers slowly tracing each of the seven bells there.

Each one had a different purpose, each one a different sound and personality. Through them necromancers summoned and controlled the Dead. But the Abhorsen was a different sort of necromancer. Where other's sought to rise, they sought to lay down. Where others controlled and bound, the Abhorsen freed and laid to rest.

After a moment of hesitation he loosened Ranna, the smallest bell and the one with the highest, sweetest sound. It would send any of the lesser Dead further into Death and the greater ones into sleep. Nuriel stretched his senses out, slightly startled to find the First Precinct mostly abandoned. Strange so close to a slaughter.

But just because he couldn't feel any Dead now didn't mean there weren't any. Or that more wouldn't come. Nuriel ran a hand over the smooth wood of the bell's handle, feeling it shudder eagerly under his touch and cast his eyes to the river below him. The boy had died only moments before Nuriel arrived, he couldn't have passed the First Gate of Death yet. But he couldn't hear the child crying and that worried him.

He was unsure how long he searched – time passed differently in Death – but when Nuriel did find the child it was far to close to the First Gate for him to be comfortable. There was a green haze around him, dragging the infant closer and closer to the gate. The only thing keeping the boy from following past it and into the second stage of Death beyond was the white, humanoid form that held it delicately by the foot.

Nuriel slowed to a stop, staring at the form, eyes narrowed. Then, like a string had been cut, the tension left his body completely. He observed the form silently for a moment before shaking his head and sheathing his sword.

"You must have loved your son a great deal if you fought Death to return here." The form said nothing, as Nuriel knew it would not. He stepped forward, keeping one eye trained on the humanoid as he leaned down and lifted the infant into his arms. The baby stared up at him with bright eyes, silent and laden with tears. The brilliant emerald was gone, replaced by a green so dark it seemed almost black. It was not the only change. The natural tan that Nuriel had just observed moments before in Life had been bleached away, leaving paper white skin that matched his own in color.

Death had stolen the color from the babe, though thankfully that was all. His soul remained untouched by the river. Nuriel ran his fingers over the babe, charter marks for warmth and comfort and safety flashing in his mind before traveling through his fingers and onto the soft skin, enveloping the nude figure like a blanket.

He eyed the humanoid for a moment. The child's mother, he was almost sure of it. Pity flashed across his stomach in the form of a rather uncomfortable clenching of his muscles and Nuriel sighed. Briefly he thought of his own mother before shoving the thought away. He shifted the babe and pointed towards the First Gate.

"Go on now. Your son will be safe with me." The humanoid figure didn't move and Nuriel felt the pity evaporate. When he spoke again, his tone was steely. "If you do not cross over I will make you. You can not walk in Life, that is not your path."

The white figure stepped away, slowly, and then fell backwards. It crashed into the river with such force that it sent the river water reaching upward and then let the river current drag it towards the First Gate. Nuriel watched it for only a moment before turning away. He needed to leave. Of the Abhorsen line or not, Death was not a place for an infant to be.

Nuriel narrowed his eyes as he stared at the waterfall that served as the First Gate of Death. Something, someone rather, was walking nearby; fighting to return to Life. They had already passed back through the Fourth Gate and seemed to be attempting to pass through the Third Precinct. For a moment Nuriel thought of banishing whatever it was past the Ninth Gate (or however further into Death he could send it) but the squirming bundle in his arms stilled his actions and he left quickly and quietly.

He was greeted in Life by the sound of a screaming child. He shifted and shook, banishing the ice from his robes and face in one great shake. The babe, Hariel, was reaching for him with plump little arms and Nuriel found himself balancing the bawling thing upon his hip. Hariel seemed as shocked by the movement as Nuriel did, though the infant seemed to know how to handle the sudden closeness far better then he and clung fiercely to the Abhorsen.

Nuriel shifted uncomfortably, his lips pursed slightly. He was absolutely terrible with children. What was he supposed to do now? He didn't know the first thing about raising a baby. He played with the idea of unloading the child on the Clayr but he rejected it almost instantly. Crossing the Breaching Wall was a harsh experience. He didn't know if Hariel would survive it.

The sound of voices broke Nuriel out of his thoughts and he spread his left hand out, Charter signs of silencing and dampening sliding from each finger (abet sluggishly amongst all the Free magic) and sunk heavily into the wood. He drew a sign for watchfulness with his forefinger, watching as the glowing sign slid into the ground.

Nuriel shifted Hariel, using the spell to watch the distressed man on the bottom floor. If it was a man. He was giant and rather hairy as well, though he seemed truly upset as he wept over the dead body of the couple Nuriel had found earlier. He ran his eyes to the gurgling infant in his arms before making a decision. He set Hariel gently in his crib, running the back of his knuckles over full cheeks before pressing his finger over the boy's forehead.

The Charter mark there flared and a shudder ran across the small of his back as Nuriel felt his own respond, the sudden heat on his forehead welcome. He could feel the Charter marks that connected them; an unbroken link that spoke of the purity of the Charter and all of life. He could hear heavy footsteps on the steps and he pulled away from the baby, stepping into the thick darkness that filled the room and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. The giant of a man came bursting into the room with enough noise to send Hariel into tears again. Which made the man burst out into sobs once more as well. Nuriel felt his hand twitch, a Charter symbol for binding already half drawn and half spoken as he watched the giant snatch the boy from his crib, almost crushing him against his barrel chest.

"It's okay now, 'arry!" Another heavy sob, "'ld Hagrid's here."

He was silent as he watched the giant of a man cradle Hariel. The child was bound to him, through both kinship and though Death. There was nowhere they could take his cousin that would keep Nuriel from finding him once more.

Besides, it was best that Hariel be raised here, among his own kind. Here the child could learn the basics of Free magic and he could certainly make no claim to knowing how to manipulate it as they did here. He would return in a few years, when Hariel was old enough to survive a crossing.

Decision made, Nuriel slid noiselessly from the room and into the night.

* * *

_Of Childhood_

1986 – August 3rd

A (newly!) six year old Harry stared down at the dead bird, watching it in muted fascination. The poor thing had flown into the shed window and broken its neck. Harry had felt its death, had watched it as the feeling lessened and lessened until it was almost gone. He'd been out weeding the garden for most of the day and now he had nothing to do. It was hot out and the harsh sun bit at his pale skin. He shifted uncomfortably against the sun burn he could already feel on the back of his neck. He never tanned – never even freckled, just burned.

His family was eating at the dinner table and Harry could smell the ham his Aunt had cooked, but he knew better then to try to go inside. The door was locked anyway. It always was. He didn't want to eat with them anyway, Harry thought sourly, not with Dudders eating like a gross pig. A shadow fell over him and Harry looked up, blinking against the bright sun as his eyes focused on the towering man before him.

The first thing he thought of was that the man was pale like he was. In fact, Harry liked to think himself quite sharp for a six year old (even if he did get low marks in class because of Dudley) and he couldn't help but notice that the man who stood above him looked almost exactly the same as himself. He gave the stranger a long look.

"Are you my dad?" The man shook his head and Harry sighed. He knew that. His dad had died driving drunk. He pointed to the bird. "It's dead."

"Yes, it is." The man said slowly, offering a pallid hand. Harry took it and was thrilled to find that his skin color didn't stand out against the man's own. "Why aren't you eating dinner with your family?"

Harry snorted. "They don't let me eat with them. Besides, the door's locked."

The hand that still clasped his own tightened slightly and Harry looked up at the stranger curiously. The man was staring into the kitchen, a pensive look on his face.

"Tell me about your life here, child."

He had had always been told at school not to talk to strangers and this man was about as strange as you could get. He was clad head to toe in what looked to be fish scales and over top of that he wore a long blue dress like thingy. And just like Chewbacca from Star Wars he had something strapped to his chest. But instead of ammo the man had bells, each one in a little leather case. A lengthy sword was at his hip and he rested the hand that wasn't clasping his own on its hilt.

And his hair! That alone made Harry giggle. As long as a girl's!

Still, Harry felt he knew this man, felt as if he'd known him his whole entire life. And so he found himself blurting out everything he hated about life at the Dursleys. How he had to live under the cupboard and how he never had enough to eat and how Uncle Vernon belted him for everything, and how they hated, _hated_, him. And how they left him out to burn. That was really important. He pointed it out twice.

The stranger listened to everything he had to say, his eyes never leaving the eating family and when Harry had finally stopped he had given a stiff nod. The man was quiet then, though he was squeezing Harry's hand hard enough that it was starting to hurt. Frowning he tugged it free and yanked on the man's wrist.

"Hey, who are you?"

The man jerked and stared at Harry as if he'd forgotten he was there. He gave Harry a small smile, kneeling suddenly next to him and Harry blinked and leaned back slightly at the sudden closeness. The man reached out with his forefinger, resting it against Harry's forehead. All at once the ground underneath his feet was spinning and then it was gone and all Harry could see was stars and stars and streaks of something that looked like stars.

And then he was back in the front lawn, blinking owlishly at the man before him and the glowing triangle looking symbol on his forehead. As he watched its brilliance dulled until it didn't glow at all, looking much like the tattoos he'd seen the neighbor boy some home with. The stranger pulled away, giving Harry another small smile.

"My name is Nuriel. I am your cousin." He said as he stood, hooking his hands underneath Harry's armpits and swinging the boy easily into his arms. Harry let out a startled yelp as he moved but clung to the man, staring up at the features that were so like his own.

"Are you really?" There was another stiff nod and Harry felt hope flair in his chest. "Will you take me away from the Dursleys?"

Nuriel looked down at him, his dark eyes sharp and evaluating. Harry did his best to look impressive. It didn't seem to work for a moment later he looked back towards the eating family with a stern frown.

"Perhaps not. The road I travel is hardly fit for a child." He shifted Harry's weight and headed towards the back door. He ignored Harry's warnings that it was locked and placed his hand upon the knob, a low whistle escaping his lips. There was a click and a second later he pushed the door open. Harry stared at the open door in awe. "But that does not mean I will leave you here, either."

Harry didn't really see much of what happened next (he spent the majority of it hiding his face in his new found cousin's neck) but there was a lot of screaming from Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia. Even Dudders joined in for a little bit, though Harry didn't really think he understood what he was screaming about. Then the fridge had blown up and then things were really quiet.

Even after the screaming stopped, Harry kept his face hidden. It was uncomfortable – those fish scales were hard! – but he liked the way his new cousin smelled. Like snow and Christmas trees, despite that it was summer. It was a very familiar smell somehow and Harry liked it.

The hands holding him shifted and Harry found himself being pried from his hiding place. His cousin, Nuriel, stared down at him, dark eyes hard and Harry felt his breath catch at the sternness of his gaze. It reminded him an offal lot of the nun that taught his class.

"I live not an easy life, especially not one for a child. If you were to come with me-"

"You can not take him from this house! I won't permit it! I swore when I took the boy in that I would stamp the freakishness from him and-" And then his aunt's mouth snapped shut. She clawed at her lips frantically, her eyes bulging from her sockets. Uncle Vernon leapt to his feet and Harry hid his face as the beefy man lunged at them.

There was the sound of a thud and when Harry peaked back again, his Uncle was collapsed on the ground. Dudley began to shriek then and as Harry watched a symbol flew from Nuriel's outstretched hand and plastered itself across the wide mouth. The lips snapped shut and the symbol flared once before disappearing.

"That is the incorrect to tone to use when speaking to your betters." Nuriel sneered.

"How did you do that?" Harry asked, awed and slightly afraid as he stared down at the three people who had, for all intense and purposes, controlled every aspect of his life up until this point.

"Magic." His cousin answered dryly. "Tell me you know of this at least?" The frown on his lips drew even tighter at Harry's confused look. "Of little matter. As I was saying. My life is not an easy one and I can not promise that your childhood would be a happy one. Indeed, I dare say I can promise you quite a lonely one. However, you shall want for nothing and I will educate you to the best of my abilities."

"I want to go with you." Harry said quickly, tightening his grasp on the man's shirt. He repeated it, as if that alone would convince his cousin to take him with him. He didn't care if he was lonely. Anything, _anything,_ had to be better then the Dursleys.

"Then take a look around you, Hariel. Remember the feel of this place, for though I take you with me now, you do not belong with me." That made Harry rather confused but he simply nodded obediently and looked around the ruined kitchen and his frightfully still family members. "Is there anything you'd like to take with you? No? Nothing? Be sure, Hariel, you will not get a second chance."

"I don't need nothing."

"Anything."

"Huh?"

"Proper grammar, Hariel. 'I don't need anything.'"

"Oh. I mean, I don't need anything." Harry corrected automatically. He bit his bottom lip as he watched at his cousin curiously. Did his cousin not know his name? What if it was a mistake and he really meant to be collecting this Hariel boy? Harry didn't think he could take that, especially after how angry his aunt and uncle were going to be. That would be just terrible. Cautiously, he asked who Hariel was.

Nuriel simply rolled his eyes as he turned and stepped back into the bright sunlight. "You are, fool boy. It's your name."

He tried to keep the shock off his face. He never knew Harry was short for anything. "Oh."

The rest of the day, much to Harry's delight, was spent in the arms of his cousin. He had never been touched by the Dursleys, well, not in a pleasant way at least. He had little experience with it outside of the bruising smacks that had ruled his life up to this point. They traveled by train for most of the trip and Harry was happy to see that his cousin was much nicer to him then his last family. The first thing his new cousin had done when they had left Privet Drive was feed him and Harry hadn't missed a meal yet. He even got to eat as much as he wanted!

Even his clothes were better, even if they were Nuriel's and far too large for him. The shirt he wore as a strange dress was of the softest material he'd ever felt and smelled slightly of lemons. He curled into his cousin's side, sighing happily at the contact and managing to avoid the sword that rested across his lap. Nuriel sent him an annoyed look that made Harry tense but his cousin simply shifted his sword away, muttering about the stupidity of children and the folly of allowing them near sharp objects.

The sun was warm through the glass window and the air conditioning in the cabin was just enough for him to feel comfortable but not cold and for the first time and a long time, Harry felt content. And so with a smile he allowed himself to drift into sleep.

When he awoke, the first thing Harry was aware of was that it was cold. The second was that something warm and furry was wrapped tightly around him. It was pulled over his face, blocking his view and only letting in a sliver of light. It smelled of leather, like Uncle Vernon's chair and something else, some sort of grease. He squirmed slightly, only to stop and stare as symbols suddenly lit the fur in front of his eyes, running this way and that across it.

The fur was pulled away from his face and Harry blinked as he stared up at the wind chapped face of his cousin. A blanket, Harry realized after a moment. He was wrapped in a blanket and unless he was greatly mistaken, a top a horse. He barely had time to be thrilled by the sudden appearance of the magnificent black thing (he'd wanted one since Dudley had a pony at his last birthday) before becoming distracted by the snowy landscape around them.

He watched the snow fall with wide eyes. How long had he been asleep?

"Good morning, Hariel. Or I should say afternoon. Don't be alarmed," Nuriel's voice was smooth and deep and Harry felt ease suddenly flow over him, as if all the fear and anxiety the fear brought had simply vanished. "I put you to sleep so you could cross the Breaching Wall."

"What's the Breaching Wall?" Harry blinked at the sound of his own voice. It sounded scratchy and harsh. Nuriel reached down and his hand reappeared a moment later with a canteen. Harry drank from it eagerly, pleased to find it's content hot and slightly sweet. Instantly he felt his ragged throat soothe.

"Drink it all. You've been asleep for a few days."

Harry obeyed, tipping his head back and drinking all of the sweet tasting liquid. Nuriel stopped the horse before urging it to turn and almost instantly Harry's vision was filled with a tall, seemingly endless wall of grey and black. It was easily as tall as the Dursley's house – no, twice as tall! And seemed to go on and on in every direction. But what fascinated Harry was the symbols he saw running across the rock, almost like a tartan. They flashed in every color Harry could think of, some so small he could barely tell they were there and some so large they seemed to swallow those around it. And it seemed as if he never saw one twice.

And he felt something – something terrible and great from it that was far too much for his six year old mind to comprehend and he shrank from it, leaning his small frame completely against his cousin's. And there was something else as well. Something that felt different then the Wall but just as great. Something that made his blood stir and his heart pound in his chest.

"That," Nuriel said bemusedly, watching Harry's reaction with fascination, "Is the Breaching Wall. It separates the Northern Kingdom, the world you come from Hariel, from the Old Kingdom."

"What…?" Harry licked his lips, not quite sure how to put what he was feeling into words. But it wasn't just a feeling. It was a taste, almost harsh and coppery in his mouth that reminded him of blood so much that he instinctively put his fingers in his mouth and popped them out, staring at his clear saliva in confusion.

"What you feel is Free magic. It is the magic your people use in the Northern Kingdom, though here it is not as common. The Wallmakers, the ones who made the Walls, were its masters once. Now it simply runs wild." Nuriel reached out and wiped Harry's fingers clean with his glove and then tucked them back into the safe warmth of the blanket. "You feel it now because you are once again close to the Charter. Do you feel it, Hariel? That warmth in the pit of your stomach?"

Harry nodded slowly. He _could_ feel a little warmth there, like a little sun in his tummy that wasn't at all uncomfortable. It felt…good.

"That's the feel of the Charter. And it will only grow stronger the further you are from the Walls. The song that greets you now has run through our blood since long before your line went Over the Breaching Wall."

He shifted Harry and suddenly he could see the wide expanse of a snowy plain laid out before him and past that, a great lake that seemed almost like a sea to him. And past even that, there were great mountains.

The wind picked up suddenly then, screaming past them and robbing what little warmth he had from the fur. As he watched, the symbols flared once more and the blanket began to heat up. His cousin had to lean down to be heard as he spoke again, his breath hot against Harry's ear. He felt his stomach give a strange little trill as Nuriel's words reached him.

"It welcomes you home, Hariel."

* * *

So, what do you think? The next chapter is more about Harry/Hariel's childhood in the Old Kingdom and then he returns to his own world and Hogwarts. The House choice is between Gryffindor and Slytherin, though I fear Harry would be a very Gryffindorian Slytherin should he become one.


	2. Of Loneliness and Homecomings

**Disclamer:** I don't own anything recognizable.

**Warnings: **Necromancer!Harry, possible Slytherin!Harry, slightly spoiled!Harry, socially inept!Harry, abusive!Dursleys, semi-Manpulative!Dumbledore, death, dead things, violence, cursing, possible!Snarry or Severitus, There will be romance, though don't know with who. And it will be a while for _any _romance to take place (Harry is only eleven for now). Hope you like Neville, he'll be in this quite a bit.

Err, it's suppose to be taking place about two thousand years after the Old Kingdom series, so while the Old Kingdom hasn't changed much Ancelstierre really would have gotten a little further along with their technology. Whoops, didn't think that one out, lol.

BTW – Reflections is my official idea bouncer. Great minds think alike, I suppose. Great ideas, great ideas.

Thanks so much for the reviews!

* * *

"I have not been an ideal parent, I know," Abhorsen said quietly. "None of us ever are. When we become the Abhorsen, we lose much else."

- Terciel, 52nd Abhorsen of the Old Kingdom

**Abhorsen**

**Chapter 2**

_Of Loneliness _

279, Old Kingdom Reckoning, 36th year of the rule of Queen Anelle – November 21st

It's so cold, _Harry shivered and slowly brought his eyes to open, _why is it so cold?

_It took him far longer then it should have to recognize what he was seeing and even then, Harry couldn't understand why he was seeing it. Because he hadn't walked in Death yet. Cousin Nuriel would not let him until his twelfth birthday. But there was no mistaking the steady pull of the current around his feet or the icy chill of Death. _

I've been here before.

_The realization shook him deeply and he felt himself take a sharp breath before turning and trying to walk towards Life. His entire body felt so heavy, surely this couldn't be normal? He was beginning to truly panic now. None of this made sense. Hadn't he just laid himself down to bed for the night? _

_He could see the entryway to Life before him but to Harry's horror it seemed to always be just out of reach. His chest was heaving now, his heart pounding like a cage bird. He had to get out, he had to! He couldn't stay here! _

_By the Charter, what if he – what if he was dead? Harry couldn't contain the shout of fear that came from his mouth at the thought and instantly he slapped his hands over his mouth, glancing around him widely for any Dead who may have been attracted by his yell. It was only then he realized that the roaring waterfall that served as the First Gate had stilled. The voice of his cousin was suddenly in his head, warning him to pay attention. _

'You must always listen while in Death, Hariel. When a gate falls silent, something is coming out of it.'

_It was as if the sound of Nuriel's voice, low and steady as it had always been, broke whatever trance of fear that bound him and Harry was suddenly bounding towards Life once more. The river fought him, the current tugging violently at his shins as if hoping to upend and carry him off. _

_Life was but a few paces away, Harry was sure he was going to make it now. He reached out, feeling warmth on the tip of his fingers as he graced the edge – and then shrieked as he was yanked violently backwards. His scar erupted into a spiking pain that had colors flashing across his eyes. He was spun on his heels like a top and suddenly he was facing a Greater Dead, its translucent hand digging into his neck, a mass of shadow that was vaguely humanoid. A yank and Harry's head was tipped back and he found himself staring up into furious red eyes._

_It took him a moment to understand that it was screaming his name, over and over again, though not because of his fear. Its mouth had long since fallen apart and its tongue flailed angrily around, making its words difficult. _

_Harry clawed at the hands holding him, desperately trying to remember a Free magic spell that could help him – any spell! But none seemed to come to him, despite his hours of long study and he found himself shrieking once more as the Greater Dead descended on him, its jawless mouth widening as if to swallow him in one clean gulp._

And suddenly Harry was awake and clutching his bed sheets, breathlessly screaming. His mouth snapped shut as soon as he registered he was in his bed. Thankfully he was never confused when he awoke from his nightmares, Harry always knew where he was when he woke. The Charter sending that had long served as his nanny was standing next to his bed, a glass of cool water in its hand that he gratefully took and gulped down.

"Thank you." He said after a moment, handing the glass back. The sending nodded and then stepped back. Harry ran shaky hands through his hair, trying to pry the lengthy strands from where they had pasted themselves across his face. He took a deep breath, stilling the shake in his hands and tried to take comfort in the steady presence of the Charter sending next to him while ignoring the black thing next to him in its entirety.

The sending had been his nanny ever since he had first come here. When Harry was younger he had clung to it, fascinated at the Charter marks that composed it. It was always shifting, always in time with his heartbeat. One moment a kind, yet gruff man would be holding him. The next, a fair yet cold looking woman. Another beat and it was a cheerful looking young woman. But as he grew older and began to understand the magic behind it, the comfort it provided lessened. For all that it resembled the various longfathers who had come before him it was only a sending; a Charter-ghost that was nothing more then a creation of his ancestors.

It could not speak. Could not offer comfort or discipline outside of soft touches and not so soft pinches.

There were hundreds of them, woven into the very stone and timber of the House. It seemed each Abhorsen made at least one or two in their time. They had various purposes. Some cleaned and cooked, others taught and mended, and others still stood as defenders – stead fast warriors that stood as a last defense should the House ever be taken.

This was not normal for a home in the Old Kingdom, Harry knew this even though he'd never left the small island that it was located on. It was home of the Abhorsen. Nothing here was ever as it seemed. Yet, the cleverness of the House and its secrets had long faded for him. And the only other living thing in the House was something he could hardly stand. As if sensing his thoughts on him, the object of his scorn announced it's presence rather frightfully close to his left ear.

"You've been having nightmares more and more often." Harry visibly winced as he came face to face with a pair of strikingly golden eyes. The black cat was stretched over his pillows, licking it's forepaw absent mindedly.

Though it seemed like an ordinary enough cat, Harry had learned the hard way that it was anything but. When he had first come here, his cousin had warned him to be weary of the talking cats, especially of the one known as Torrigan. He would seek to hurt him if he wasn't careful. Harry had stopped listening once Nuriel had spoken the words 'talking cats.' His willful ignorance to his cousin's warnings had nearly cost him his left hand and had earned him a lengthy scar that encircled his pinky before traveling up his forearm.

That night, Harry had learned his first Charter mark; one that calmed burns. Torrigan, along with a white cat that liked to call itself Mogget, were Free magic beings bound to serve the Abhorsen line. Neither could willfully hurt an Abhorsen and served as guides. But unlike Mogget, who was generally just very annoying, Torrigan could – and would – trick Harry to his death.

Torrigan let out a loud cat yawn before dressing Harry down with a critical eye. "I would have thought you'd be past all this nonsense. Perhaps you truly are still a child."

With a snarl Harry flung a pillow at him, to which Torrigan simply skirted before flicking his tail dismissively underneath his nose. The cat sneered at him – well, as much as a cat could – and leapt from the bed.

"You've overslept. Again." He stopped in the doorway, raising a slender back leg and running his tongue leisurely across it. "I'll be in the study if you ever want to put something in that empty head of yours."

The pillow missed the cat but did succeed in sending him skirting from the room. Harry allowed himself a sharp grin before climbing out of bed and pulling the heavy curtains that closed off his windows aside. He cursed. Torrigan was right. He had overslept. It looked as if it was almost noon by the sun.

He bathed and dressed quickly, well, as quickly as the Charter sendings that served him would allow him. Harry had never found a way to call them off once they'd begun their morning routine. Like clockwork, Harry would find himself accosted every morning by three sendings dressed in white habits. With a proficiency that came from years of doing their soul purpose, Harry always found himself thoroughly washed and dressed in a surprising short amount of time.

It was only when they advanced on him, each sending clasping a different piece of clothing, did Harry realize that they had strayed from their normal routine. Instead of the comfortable cotton pants and tunic he usually wore, Harry found himself clad in a loose shirt of white linen. Trousers of the same material followed, capped by ankle boots of a soft, supple leather. His surcoat was pulled over his head roughly, still slightly too large on his thin frame, and was quickly buckled with a thick leather belt.

Harry fingered the silky material with a frown, tracing over the repeating silver key that was the heraldic symbol of the Abhorsen line. Unlike every other Abhorsen he had ever been shown, Harry's surcoat was a deep emerald green instead of the standard blue. He felt his frown grow heavier as he stared at the color.

His cousin had never hid the fact that he had come from the other side of the Breaching Wall and that he must once more return there. Harry didn't know what he felt about that. From what he had been told by Nuriel, Free magic ran wild there and Charter magic was hard to wield. Why would he want to go somewhere where his magic was no longer useable?

Nuriel had never answered why he had to go back or why he had finally come and taken him from the Dursleys in the first place. Harry didn't want to go back. This place was his home now. Why couldn't he just stay here? He was almost to an age where he could begin walking in Death and surely in another year or two he'd be allowed to accompany cousin Nuriel on his duties.

How else was he to learn how to be an Abhorsen?

Harry had worked hard for the moment that Nuriel would look at him with those sharp, dark eyes and then nod. He would place a heavy yet reassuring hand on his shoulder and declare that yes, Harry was finally ready to walk with him as his Apprentice.

Harry felt he was ready.

He knew the bells by name and purpose. He could use his own panpipes (under strict supervision of his cousin, of course) to bind and send the most minor of the Dead back through the gates. He could recited the old hymns and warnings, state the Nine Precincts of Death and describe all of the gates; could speak and draw the Free magic needed to calm them or stroke them into a fury.

He could identify by eye (well he thought he could from their description in the books) most if not all of the Lesser and Greater Dead. And he had finally, finally, begun to read from the Book of the Dead. And while that book terrified Harry greatly, he spent hours memorizing its contents. There was little else in the House to do other then read and as such, Harry felt like he had a fairly impressive amount of Charter marks under his belt.

So why, _why_, did Nuriel still refuse to take him from the House?

As much as he loved this place (which was greatly, it was the first true home Harry had ever had) he hated it with an equal passion. The island it was on was the size of a football field, blocked off from the outside world by large walls with a fierce river behind them. Harry had only ever been off the grounds three times and then it had been only to the other side of the river, where he had practiced banishing lesser Dead with his panpipes.

Harry yearned to go out into the world, to see and meet new people. Not that a word of complaint would ever reach his cousin's ears, but Harry was desperately lonely. He knew he had a younger cousin, a girl-child named Mirael that was three or four years old, who was being raised Over the Wall in Ancelstierre but he had never met her. Harry felt bad for her; he was sure she saw her father even less then he did. And he had another cousin, Sulyn, but he'd never spoken to her outside of letters and even those were infrequent.

Nevertheless, he was forever grateful for being taken from the Dursleys. He no longer feared them like he once did. Nuriel had told him his memories of them would fade with time and to some extent they had.

But he could still see the face of his uncle, purple with rage, and the feel of his belt. All he could remember of his aunt was the sound of her shrieking voice and a random memory of her chasing him around the house with a frying pain. But he remembered the pain and the constant, gnawing hunger clear enough that he had no illusions of what his early life was like. Loneliness was nothing in exchange for what he had now.

He must have been thinking for a little too long for a sending pried his hands from his surcoat, shaking a scolding finger at him before gesturing towards the doorway.

Brunch was a silent a fair. Torrigan was still angry at him for the pillow and refused to even look at him. After a few minutes of bating failed to get a response Harry gave up and pushed his oatmeal around sourly. A sending placed its hands on it's hips in an exaggerated show of displeasure and pointed threateningly at his bowl with a wooden spoon.

Harry quickly scooped up what was left and excused himself to the study. He dove into his books, fascinated for a moment as he discovered that once again a chapter of the Book of the Dead that had not been there before had appeared. But he found he could not understand it and without Torrigan to teach him the lessen, Harry found his sour thoughts returning once more, along with a biting feeling of claustrophobia that had him climbing the up the ladder that lead to the observatory.

The observatory was spelled to appear as if it had no walls at all and provided breath taking views of the towering cliffs that flanked each side of the House. The Ratterlin River surrounded the island, feeding a wide waterfall that made everything in the House vibrate with its roar. It was free of the ice and snow that choked the landscape around it and Harry watched in boredom as sheets of ice from further up river shot by.

Snug and warm underneath an afghan a sending had acquired for him, Harry stretched out on his stomach, a Charter spell book in front of him as he stared wistfully off into the distance.

Nothing ever changed, nothing was ever different. He wanted to help his cousin, repay him for the kindness he had given Harry. How was he supposed to do that if he spent his life rotting behind walls?

Spell book completely forgotten, Harry let himself slide away into fantasy, imaging himself off in the mountains with his cousin. The Dead would plead with him, as he was told they often did, and Harry would shake his head, a stern yet noble frown on his face.

'_No ,' _He'd say as he sent them into Death, _'The Dead shall not walk in Life, for this is not their path.'_ They were words he had heard Nuriel speak a thousand times. It was among these thoughts that Harry let his head fall to rest on his folded arms, slipping easily into sleep.

* * *

_Of Homecomings_

The House greeted him, unchanged as it had been throughout the entirety of his life. Nuriel was tired. He felt it like a weight around his neck. Or perhaps that was just Mogget. The white cat was draped like a stole over his shoulders, an occasional white tail brushing across his face.

A Necromancer in Binen, a little village south of Hafmet, had lost control of his ritual and allowed himself to be possessed by his summon. The rather snarky Fifth Gate rester had then attempted to unleash as many of his comrades as he possibly could and had sent the entire village onto the sandy islets of the small fishing river nearby. Given the time of year, more then a third had frozen to death by the time he had arrived. It had been an exhausting and drawn out ordeal and to make things worse it had made him very, very late.

He whistled a Charter mark that stilled the water in front of him momentarily, allowing him access to the sunken stepping stones that formed the only way to reach his home.

The Dead could not cross running water and so in that sense, having ones home in the middle of one of the strongest rivers in the Kingdom was an excellent plan. It was, however, a pain for exhausted Abhorsens to try and pass once the winter floods came. He barely reached the wooden landing before the Charter spell failed and the river roared to life once more behind him.

"He isn't even here to greet you, ungrateful brat." Mogget said lazily as they entered the warm entryway. The Abhorsen rolled his eyes. For reasons unknown to him, both of the cats had taken a rather strong disliking of Hariel, though Torrigan more so then Mogget. He handed his bells and sword to a sending, peeling his soaked outer layer off.

"Take me to my cousin." He instructed it, shaking snow from his hair. He was not surprised when he was lead to his study, though he was however to find the overstuffed armchair by the fire was vacant. Torrigan waited for them there, sprawled across his desk and making a mess of the papers left on it. A sharp frown removed him from it and Nuriel watched in mild interest as Mogget and Torrigan greeted each other, twin tails busy flicking about.

It was always interesting, the Abhorsen never knew if they were going to groom each other or erupt into a fight. Seeing that it would be nether this time, Nuriel made his way up the ladder to the observatory, ignoring the way his stiff back cracked and complained with each step. His head peaked past the trap door and Nuriel stilled. For a moment he allowed himself to lean against the ladder, arms resting folded against the floor, and simply watched his sleeping charge.

_He got bigger again._

Nuriel shook his head at the pure stupidity of that thought. Of course he had, Hariel was a growing boy. Not much more left to grow into though, perhaps a few more inches. Thanks to the treatment of his aunt's family and added with the lithe frame that was rather common place for their line and Hariel would ever be rather short. Still, he had matured. Much of the roundness of his cheeks were gone, the baby fat that adorned him was slowly slipping away to be replaced by sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw.

It seemed only yesterday he had brought the bright eyed urchin to the House. Nuriel felt the slight pull of guilt as he watched the dosing boy. How was it possible that it was already time to send him back Over the Breaching Wall? It would be good for Hariel, to go to school and be amongst others his own age. Nuriel wasn't blind, he knew how isolated the boy felt. He had tried to be at home as much as he could and he tried to send a sending version of himself to be with the boy every new moon. But sendings of that sort can not touch and often failed if he was too far away. Though Nuriel always managed to be home for the winter solstice and the boy's birthday (if nothing else) he was often gone.

Hariel was always happy to see him, regardless of how soon he had to leave. He never complained, but the Abhorsen knew it was a lonely, miserable existence. Nuriel knew that well, for it had also been his own.

He would have sent him to school in Ancelstierre, like he had his own daughter, but Nuriel didn't dare send him so far from the influence of Free magic, least it do far more then make the boy sick when he walked amongst it once more.

Hariel frowned in his thoughts, his boyish face taking a decidedly darker look before he let out a murmur and rolled onto his side. _Nightmares again,_ Nuriel thought with a frown as he climbed the rest of the way up, waving off a Charter sendings offer of tea. He crouched next to his cousin, a stiff frown tugging at his lips as he watched Hariel fidget.

He laid his hand on the boy's forehead, his touch instantly soothing the distraught child. Against the brilliant colors of the rug, Hariel's coloring was even more pronounced and he looked suddenly terribly fragile. The lightening bolt shaped scar on his forehead was hot to the touch and Nuriel grit his teeth, letting out a hiss in an unusual show of emotion.

He knew what the scar meant. A Curse Scar, the Clayr had called it. The physical proof of the failure of the killing curse that had been unleashed on him as a babe. They had warned him, in low tones as their sisters and cousins played with the then seven year old, that it connected him to the great evil Over the Breaching Wall.

Nuriel loathed to send Hariel back to that world and into certain harm. He had done his best to train and educate his cousin. Charter knows how well the boy had done with memorizing his spell work and he was truly a natural in necromancy. He had been considering allowing the boy to walk in Death a year sooner then even he had. The sendings had done a fine job of teaching him basic defense and his sword play, while still lacking, was better then what he had expected and he'd thought he'd have more time to hone it. But the time to send Hariel back had come so much quicker then he had imagined.

With a sigh, Nuriel shook his charge awake.

Hariel sat up in confusion, green eyes looking around blearily before focusing sharply on him. Nuriel felt his own lips twitch in response to the wide grin he was given, nearly toppling backwards as the small frame latched onto his waist.

"Cousin! You're home!" Hariel beamed up at him. He was so close that Nuriel could see the twin Charter marks that corrected his cousin's rather abysmal eyesight, usually hidden so well against the dark green of his eyes. He watched in amusement as Hariel pried himself away seconds later, an endearing blush spreading across the bridge of his nose and cheeks.

Nuriel kept his hand firmly on his cousin's shoulder as they stood; frowning down at the clothing he wore. The sendings had dressed him for a formal dinner, which while had been his original plan but his current lateness made it rather impractical. A quick dinner and then they had to be off once more, trudging through the night and to the north. They had to cross quickly if they were going to make it on time. When he informed Hariel that he needed to change into travel clothes, the Abhorsen was frankly taken aback by the brilliant smile his cousin flashed him.

"You mean I get to go with you?" His voice was almost breathless with excitement.

Nuriel shook his head grimly as he realized what his cousin thought was happening. Confusion cast itself wearily on the boy's face and suddenly he frowned, his hands fisting at his side.

"You can't mean back…" At his nod, the boy jerked away from him. "You can not be serious!"

"Hariel," Nuriel said sternly, slightly taken aback by his reaction, "It is time for you to return to the Northern Kingdom. You knew this day would come, I have made no attempt to hide this from you."

"It can't be time yet!"

He reached out to the boy, but his cousin flittered away from him, staring at him with wide eyes. The Abhorsen carefully took a step back, keeping his hands at his side. He always had to be careful when the boy got worked up. Hariel had far to many bad memories of being touched when he was emotional and so Nuriel took another step backwards, hoping it would placate him.

As he took in the way Hariel had pinned himself against the glass wall, the near frantic breaths and the even paler complexion then was the norm, Nuriel began to think perhaps he should have warned his cousin that this day was coming sooner. He had meant to mention it the last new moon, but something had come up and he hadn't been able to send himself.

"I don't want to go!"

"Hariel-"

"No!" Black hair flew randomly as he shook his head violently, suddenly looking far younger then eleven. "Why can't I stay here and be your Apprentice?"

"You'll be going to the finest school for…Wizardry…across the Wall. It will teach you how to wield Free magic in a way that I never could."

"I don't care!" Nuriel felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. Hariel was actually yelling at him. When was the last time Hariel had had a temper tantrum? Nuriel couldn't even remember… "I don't care if I learn Free magic or not!"

"Yes, you do." He tried to keep his voice level, despite the urge he had to take the boy over his knee. He was in no mood to deal with this right now. "You are going to that school and that's final."

"You can't make me!"

Nuriel forced himself to take a deep breath, feeling the tell tale tick of frustration that always seemed to form just above his left eye. All he wanted was time to take a quick bath and switch out his clothing for the trip. They still had a week's hard ride ahead of them, not to mention the trial that Free magic would bring once they reached the Breaching Wall – much less crossed it.

They hadn't bought any of the boy's schools things and Nuriel wasn't even sure if their guide was would wait for them if they were late in making the crossing, which would be a disaster as Nuriel had no idea where this Hogwarts was, much less what needed to be done to cross it's wards.

He stood to his full height, pinning Hariel with a glare he usually reserved for politicians and people of equal isocratic personalities. "You will not take that tone with me again. Ever. Is that understood?"

Something in his tone seemed to shock the anger out of his cousin and the small frame drooped, messy raven hair hiding his face as he bowed his head. Nuriel felt frustration and guilt fill him as he stared at the defeated form.

"You do not want me here?" Hariel's voice was small and Nuriel felt his heart clench. How he felt about having Hariel with him didn't matter. The boy had to return to his own, there was no way around that. Hadn't he always told him that?

He shook his head, suddenly feeling far more tired then before. "You should not be here."

In hindsight, that was perhaps not the best thing to say. Hariel froze, his head snapping up to stare at him, green eyes going impossibly wide. To Nuriel's absolute horror, tears fell freely from the boy. He reached out to grab him, but his cousin nearly jumped head first down the hatchway to avoid him.

"Hariel, wait!" Nuriel skirted down the hatchway, ignoring the ladder entirely and landing with a loud thud. "I didn't-" The study door slammed hard enough to knock a few books from their shelves. Nuriel's shoulders drooped as he stared at the closed door. "…mean it that way."

"Elegantly done." Mogget said dryly, his green eyes glowing in the darkness. Nuriel groaned, collapsing into a nearby armchair before bringing his hand up to rub tiredly at his eyes. There was a sound of another door slamming - undoubtedly Hariel's bedroom door.

"Indeed," Torrigan agreed, head cocked to the side as he listened. "Your handling of the boy was quite remarkable. Though he isn't very bright to begin with. But then again, he does-"

"Torrigan."

"Yes, Abhorsen?"

"Are you capable of speaking without insulting anyone?"

"I don't know, I've never tried."

In his seat, Nuriel shook his head in defeat.

* * *

Trying to keep Harry true to an eleven year old. He'll be a little more mature with others, but Nuriel's family and you're allowed to act out with them. Plus, both of them are socially inept do their isolated up bringing. But Nuriel really does love Hariel, can't you tell?

For combining Free and Charter magic, well, the panpipes and bells that the Abhorsen use are examples of this, though it is very difficult to make objects or spells that will use both without them canceling each other out. But I've got some ideas.

What do you think? Next chapter they cross the Breaching Wall and arrive at Hogwarts.

Oh and the dream is Harry seeing Tom cross over into Life, on repeat and embellished by his subconscious.


	3. Of Crossings

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything recognizable.

**Warnings: **Necromancer!Harry, possible Slytherin!Harry, slightly spoiled!Harry, socially inept!Harry, abusive!Dursleys, semi-Manpulative!Dumbledore, possible!Snarry or Severitus, death, dead things, violence, cursing. There will be romance, though don't know with who. And it will be a while for _any _romance to take place (Harry is only eleven for now). Hope you like Neville, he'll be in this quite a bit.

Yes, Torrigan is Touchstone's name. The black cat is none other then Kerrigor, and he's a twisted little thing, taking the name of the half-brother he betrayed. I'm sure Touchstone's rolling in his grave.

Again, thanks for the reviews! They really inspire me to keep writing! I'm serious; they really motivated me to get this chapter out. I've got the next chapter half written (yay for pre-established time lines) so I'll be getting it up soon.

* * *

"It was not just words he spoke, but power, Free Magic power that froze Sabriel's nerves, caught at her muscles."

- Garth Nix, Sabriel

**Abhorsen**

**Chapter 3**

_Of Crossings _

279, Old Kingdom Reckoning, 36th year of Queen Anelle – November 21st

The journey north was a harsh one. They rode hard along the river Ratterlin, changing horses at post houses as they passed them. Harry had been surprised by the sight of the sable horses they rode, though he should not have been. The Royal line were blood kin after all. The magnificent black things were a specialized breed called the King's Own with Charter marks for stoutness and speed that had been breed into them through mage work. Though Harry had read of them, this was the first time he'd seen them in person.

The beasts were gigantic, towering over his small frame and easily twenty hands or taller at the withers. Even his cousin Nuriel's head didn't peak over their stout frames. The horses were nothing but muscle, capable of riding for days at a time without stopping. Which was exactly why they were using them, it seemed.

They rarely stopped in the towns they passed, ridding through the night instead. Nuriel only stopped when it seemed Harry was about to fall from his saddle out of exhaustion and then only to place him in front of him before riding on.

The trip was a silent one, though the speed at which they traveled ensured it would have been one even if Harry wasn't angry at his cousin. He had not spoken to him once, though Nuriel had tried to get him to. He felt deeply betrayed by the thought of going back Over the Breaching Wall. It made such terrible sense suddenly, that his cousin never really wanted him here. Why else would he be returning him? And at such speed! Harry had been horrified to find that the Charter sendings had his travel bag packed when he had arrived in his room. The tears had barely dried on his face before he had been stripped and redressed for travel.

Gone was the slightly itchy but comfortable linen ensemble, replaced with a linen shirt of a stiffer constancy, bleached white and with a high collar that was laced firmly together under his chin. He had almost fallen face first into his armoire as the sendings had shoved him into a pair of supple leather trousers, heavily padded on the bottom and reinforced with stiff plates at the thighs, knees and shins. A doeskin tunic came next and to Harry's great disappointment a thick gambeson was pulled over top, deep black in it's color, instead of the scale armor his cousin wore.

Thick woolen socks followed, so thick that Harry felt he could hardly move his feet and then a pair of hobnailed boots that he'd never seen before but fit perfectly were shoved on and tightly laced. His surcoat came next, one longer then he was used to wearing, falling to his heels and split from his thighs down for mobility.

His hair was brushed out and braided in a thick plait, reducing its length from past his shoulders to his nape. A fur lined cap came next, secured underneath his chin so tightly that Harry almost choked. A thick leather belt came next, with two empty frogs hanging from it, one smaller then the other. His seax went into the smaller one and a dirk that Harry that had never seen before was placed in the other one.

He took the dirk out, admiring it as he watched Charter symbols flare and speed across its blade. Its handle was a light brown, many times handled and polished until it was smooth and comfortable in his hand. Harry knew as soon as he saw it that it was from an Elder tree. The wood was a favorite to be used as it held a natural ability to ward off the evil and gave protection to those who could work the Charter. It could only be harvested by a Charter mage of many years standing and only with a promise to the Elder Mother, a Free magic spirit that by legend lived in all Elder trees, least she grow angry and cause great misfortune to those who bore her wood.

_"Old mother," _Harry had almost whispered, speaking the promise as he ran his fingers over the handle, eyes following the Charter symbols as they faded into the damask steel in awe._ "Give me some of thy wood and I will give thee some of mine when I grow into a tree."_

He barely had time to admire it before a sending had sheathed it again, shoving his hands into a pair of thick, winter riding gloves. With great care the Charter sending opened the box that held the panpipes that he would use to bind the Dead to his will and offered it to him. They were average sized set of pipes, constructed of ash and decidedly unremarkably if someone didn't know what they were looking at. The Charter symbols carved into each tube may have caused some pause but only those who could recognize Free magic would realize how remarkable the instrument was. It was rare, very rare, for Free and Charter magic to be combined. And like the bells his cousin wore, his panpipes were such a combination, created long ago by the Wallmaker.

Secure in their leather case, Harry carefully slid the pipes onto the belt before looping it.

A helmet wrapped in green and silver striped fabric followed by a fur lined cloak completed the outfit and before Harry had time to grab anything else _he_ may have wanted to take with him, the leather bag that held his provisions was on his back and Nuriel was leading him out the door by his hand like a petulant child.

And then he was gone, staring at the long cliffs as they grew smaller and smaller in the distance, beyond shocked that he had actually left the House. Things had moved quickly after that. Three days had them past Qyrre and half way to Chasel. Six more put them at High Bridge changing horses and replenishing their supplies.

Harry had kept quiet the entire time, refusing to even look at his cousin much less speak to him. But as they rested for the day in the bustling town of High Bridge (thankfully, for Harry was sure his rump was going to forever be damaged) his cousin seemed to have had enough. When Harry had refused to answer him with what he would like to eat for dinner, Nuriel had yanked the boy out of his seat by the scruff of his neck and nearly dragged him into their room.

The door had barely shut before Harry was over Nuriel's knee and the firm spanking that had followed had left his already oh-so-sore bottom smarting. Harry had howled after the first few landed and squirmed, desperately trying to escape, but his cousin's grip on him was iron-like. When Nuriel had finished he had set Harry on his feet before grabbing him firmly by the chin, looking him square in the eye.

"Why are you acting like this?" Harry focused his stare on the Charter mark on his cousin's forehead, setting his jaw. Nuriel had sighed and shook his head, releasing his grip on his chin. Harry immediately locked his eyes to the floor. "Do you really think I view your time here as a mistake?"

At that Harry's head shot up, staring at his cousin in shock. "But you said-"

"Perhaps I should have chosen my words better, but if you hadn't been acting like a sullen child I would have corrected you by now." Nuriel's eyes were dark and disappointed. Harry felt himself shrink from the look, the sting of his bottom partially forgotten.

"Then…you want me?" Harry winced at how desperate his own voice sounded. A strange look past over his cousin's face, one Harry had never seen before and suddenly he was pulled into a fierce hug.

"Of course I want you, stupid boy." Nuriel's voice was low and gruff and Harry clung to him, trying to memorize everything about him that he could. It was so rare that Nuriel held him like this, not since he had been very young. He still smelled of winter and trees but this time the harsh odor of hard travel also clung to him. Not that Harry minded. He buried his face in his cousin's neck and inhaled deeply.

And then he was pulled away, Nuriel's hands still firmly on his forearms, dark eyes staring at him seriously.

"If I could, I would keep you here with me always, Hariel. But this world is not your own. You must go back and be amongst your own kind. Free magic is as much your heritage as Charter magic is. And though I am a Free magic adept, I can not teach you what it is you need."

And Harry had nodded, suddenly feeling very stupid for how he had been acting. He only had a few days left with his cousin before he had to go over the Breaching Wall, and then nothing until the summer term. His cousin had explained to him that the Free magic would make sendings of himself impossible. The thought of not even seeing his cousin in any shape or form at least once a month was incredibly disheartening.

The next night, Harry feigned exhaustion earlier then usual and though Nuriel had given him an amused look, he said nothing as Harry climbed in front of him. A two days ride brought them to the crossroads west of Sindle, where they once again changed horses and headed northwest, towards the Nailway. It took them five days hard crossing to get over the mountains, with a day rest in the middle at one of the Clayr's outposts before they finally breached the range and made their way down to the expansive lake below.

Another stop at a Clayr outpost to replenish their provisions and experience another frightfully warm reception from their distant cousins (a similar and equally startling welcome had come at the other outpost as well, to Harry's bemusement) and then their rarely used ferry had taken them over the Wide Lake and to the Frozen Plains, so named for the fact that no trees grew here to lessen the wind's destructive power.

The troop of blonde women had stood on the ferry dock, calling well wishes and singing songs of blessing until Harry could no longer see them from his saddle. All the great blood lines that carried the Charter – the Royal family, the Clayr, the Abhorsen – were related, he had known that for years. But he had found the Clayr's very…enthusiastic view of their kinship strange. Welcomed, but strange.

The wind here was devastating. It made its way down from the mountains, bitterly cold from the glaciers there and froze whatever it encountered. He remembered the plain because of the wind. It was still powerful in his mind, that first time he had felt it with Nuriel. It had taken them two miserable days to cross it, during which Harry had to add more warming Charters to his gloves and hat twice before he felt some feeling return to his finger tips and ears.

They came to one last outpost and Harry found this one far less to his liking, despite the roaring fire and piping hot cup of chocolate he'd been handed. An old woman lived here, as bent and stunted as the plain she lived on. _A Clayr_, Harry thought, _though she certainly looks a fair bit different._

Her skin was pale and the hair on her head was a fair silver that seemed to always be reflecting the light. She seemed incredibly old yet had no problem getting around her home. She wore a strange surcoat over her bent form, red with a repeating seven pointed star in gold, yet the star was quartered with a silver key like the one that represented the Abhorsen line. She was a strange woman and hadn't spoken once to Harry, her greeting consisting of two fingers pressed against his Charter mark.

She stood like that for quite a while, simply gazing at him with light brown eyes that had lost none of their sharpness before turning and gesturing Nuriel from the small sitting room.

They had spent the night, though Harry did not see the woman again. When he asked Nuriel about her his cousin simply smiled a grim, knowing little smile and shook his head. Completely mystified, Harry had pushed the woman from his thoughts. It was easy to do as they were nearly to the Breaching Wall. He found he couldn't think of much else.

It wasn't just the crossing that terrified him, though it certainly did, but rather the thought of leaving the Old Kingdom behind. He wanted to simply turn his horse and flee. Surely he and Nuriel could simply explore this land together and forget all about the Northern Kingdom. But Harry knew better then to do so or voice his wish again.

Whether he wanted it or not, Harry was going back.

He felt his heart sink somewhere deep in his stomach when they approached the Crossing Bridge, a rather decrepit looking work of masonry that spanned a deep gorge. A days ride once over it would bring them to the Wall. He eyed the bridge distrustfully as they neared it and then nervously to the roaring river that snaked it's way through the gorge below it. But as they crossed it he could see ancient Charter marks for strength and vitality flare to life, swirling like a nexus under each hoof beat.

And then they were across and only the Wall was left.

It was how Harry remembered it. Tall and imposing and dark. Though he could still remember it somewhat from the first time and Nuriel had warned him repeatedly, when they neared the Wall enough for Harry to feel it he found himself violently sick. He had nearly fallen off his horse, barely ripping the muffler that one of the Clayr at the Mountain Post had knitted for him (_'I saw you were cold,' She had said cheerfully to Harry's mystified expression_) in time for it to avoid the vomit.

Nuriel had kneeled next to him, his bare hand pressed against the back of Harry's next, whispering comforting words. He was unsure of what marks his cousin had used but he felt the power seep into his skin and his nausea lessen. A brief moment later and they were on their way again. The closer they got, the sicker he felt, but Harry managed to keep from loosing what meager contents where left in his stomach.

Free magic stunted plant growth here and the Wall was echoed by a thick line, almost a mile across, of bare ground. On the very edge of the line, where only the shortest, natted grass grew was a stable. Here, the horses were left into the care of Charter sendings and they continued on foot.

As they crossed the barren line and stood before the massive thing, Harry could not help but be overcome with fear and his hand sought out his cousin's instinctively. Even through his thick gloves, Nuriel's grip was strong and the Abhorsen pulled him close, giving a fleeting smile of reassurance.

He didn't see how they were going to cross it. He could see no entryway, no stairs to climb over it. He was about to ask when his cousin began to speak. The words were harsh, almost like a bark. They grated on Harry's ears.

_Free magic, _he thought in awe. His breath caught as the words became familiar and softer, _and Charter magic. _

As he watched the Breaching Wall gave a great tremble that ran across its frame. Harry watched as it slid further down the Wall until he could no longer see it. Nuriel gave his hand a tug and when he looked back, he was shocked to find a pair of great doors, as tall as the Wall and of a wood so dark the iron that wrought it stood out like a brilliant sun against them.

To his surprise Nuriel lifted him into his arms, pack and all, locking on arm around Harry's back while the other rested securely under his bottom. Instinctively he had wrapped his arms around his neck, staring at his cousin in shock. Dark brown eyes stared back at him worriedly, his mouth set in a determined line.

"Do not let go of me, Hariel."

"Yes, Cousin." Harry answered dutifully, tightening his grip even more as they started towards the towering Wall.

"See that you don't. Tight now." And then his cousin was crossing the last bit of barren earth with wide, purposefully strides. As they neared the doors, Nuriel spoke Charter symbols, his lips moving so fast that that the marks seemed to fly out. The few he recognized where almost all defensive ones. Marks for cooling and endurance, for fleetness of foot and light and many, many marks for protection. The rest Harry did not know.

The moment they stepped past the doors, Harry understood why his cousin had warned him twice. A wind, ungodly hot, swept between them and for once terrible moment he feared he would be blown away…but then Nuriel had pulled him closer still, the hand on his back claw like in it's grip. And then Nuriel began to sprint, Charter marks he had so carefully woven around them flaring.

Everything was cast in red tones and Harry could see sand beneath his cousin's feet before the wind caught him full in the face and he cried out, closing his eyes to protect them from it. He could hear his cousin chanting, repeating the same set of marks over and over again.

_We're going to burn up! _

Harry cried out, the heat was far too much. He was sure they were going to burst into flames and be carried off with that terrible wind. But then there was a feeling of great pressure and stretching and then suddenly they were on the other side.

Nuriel collapsed with a groan, landing heavily on top of him. Harry stared up at the blue sky above them with wide eyes, every inch of him shaking. His cousin's breath was hot and quick on his neck, his entire frame quivering and suddenly Harry was worried for him. He crawled out from underneath him, trying to fight the nausea and overwhelming feeling of vertigo that Free magic brought.

He tried to reach for the canteen that was on the back of his pack, only to find that he had lost it and so he made his way for his cousin's. The action of reaching for it almost undid him. He collapsed into the grass, breathing heavily before rolling and vomiting the contents of his stomach. He tried to stand again, to bring the canteen up to his lips but found he could not.

Harry let out a whimper as hot tears slid painfully down his burnt face. He tried to sit up once more and failed, finally giving up and laying back against the grass. He called his cousin's name helplessly, feeling panic erupt when he didn't respond. Fear alone gave him the strength to crawl to his cousin's side and turn him on his back.

Nuriel groaned and stared up at him with silted eyes. A weak hand reached up and pulled Harry down and against him. They laid still together, the canteen an awkward lump between them, their ragged breathing hardly heard over the sound of their heartbeats. He must have blacked out because when he awoke next it was to the feel of being disrobed.

Nuriel was crouched before him, looking every bit as red in the face as Harry knew he must be, slowly peeling Harry's winter clothing off. The stifling feeling of heat left with each article. Nuriel had already removed his own, looking slightly silly with a vertical mark where the red of his neck met the white skin that his scarf had hidden. Harry's cloak went first, followed by his muffler, hat and gloves. Even his woolen socks were stripped and replaced by a much lighter pair.

Harry felt like a louse, sitting there and letting his cousin do the work for him, but the Free magic bit at him. It was only once his cousin had coated his face with a foul smelling poultice of tanmaril leaves to the burn that Harry managed to sit up, taking the offered canteen and downing half of it.

They had left the Breaching Wall. He could see that Nuriel had moved him to a forest and he squinted to his right he could just see the wall through the tree line. Other people were here as well, standing slightly off to the side and forming a loose circle around them. Harry tensed, his hand going instinctively to rest over his panpipes. Nuriel caught his hand and shook his head.

"It is alright."

"But Cousin! They're dead!" The exclamation left him at a shout and Harry blushed fiercely at the flat look Nuriel gave him as his voice easily carried around them.

"Look closer, Hariel."

Harry peered at the people and felt his brow furrow, confused at what he felt. They were all gaunt and pale, almost as if by a rule, and from what he could see from those nearest to him, all bore twin scarlet eyes. He knew that no heart beat in their chests yet…these people were not…Dead. How was that possible? He looked at his cousin in confusion.

"They are Vampires, Hariel, creatures that drink the blood of the Living to survive. Unique to the Northern Kingdom. They are dead, but not truly Dead." Nuriel explained as he pulled him to his feet. Harry swayed slightly but managed to fight down the sickness to something manageable. Free magic was everywhere, completely overwhelming his senses.

"The sickness will fade. In time." A low, almost melodious voice said to his left. Harry turned and stared at the tall, pale man that stepped forward. "My name is Sanguina, Abhorsen."

Harry looked at Nuriel in confusion but his cousin only gave him a small smile. "He means you, Hariel. Here you are Abhorsen."

The idea was so ludicrous that he actually laughed but stopped short as the words sunk in. He swallowed nervously and stared at his cousin worriedly. How was he Abhorsen? He had never even walked in Death before! Shaking his head, he asked his cousin.

"That is true," He had answered patiently, "But Abhorsen you are, nonetheless." He gestured to the people around them. "These Vampires are bound by blood oath to your line."

Sanguina nodded and cleared his throat, suddenly standing taller as he spoke with the authority born out of thousands of years of doing the same duty. "We guard this Wall and keep those who are not of the Lines out. And in return, we are left in Life. An ancient pact, Abhorsen, between your forefathers and my own. Will you honor it?"

Harry stared at him with wide eyes, feeling the weight of those words and the title fiercely. Everyone was staring at him, waiting for an answer that Harry really didn't feel like he was qualified to give. Nuriel's hand rested on his shoulder and when he glanced up at him, he found his cousin watching him with a knowing gaze.

He licked his lips, aware that the people were still waiting. Nuriel gave a small nod and Harry pulled his dirk out and ran the tip of his thumb upon the blade. He tried to recall the words the etiquette books had taught him the best he could as he offered it to the Vampire.

"I will honor the oath my longfathers have made."

Sanguina nodded, raising his own thumb to his mouth and when it reemerged it was cut. Harry offered his own but to his surprise Sanguina grabbed his wrist. He couldn't control the yip of surprise when the vampire knelt down and sucked the digit into his mouth. He felt a shudder run down his back as a coarse tongue, much like a cat's, ran over the cut. A second later and Sanguina pulled away and pressed Harry's now clean thumb to his own bloody one. Then he stepped away and turned to his people, speaking to them rapidly in a language he didn't understand. Harry stared at his now healed thumb in awe.

Nuriel ruffled his hair, a look of approval on his face that made Harry grin widely. The short words of praise that were offered a moment later made him glow. He watched in surprise as his cousin reached into his own pack and withdrew a dreadfully familiar black figure.

Harry pointed at Torrigan accusingly. "What is he doing here?"

Torrigan yawned and stretched, his tail flickering to and fro. "What an incredibly boring trip. I thought I was going to suffocate in there. But it was warm I suppose."

"He is going with you to your school. The letter said you could take a familiar." Nuriel explained. Before Harry could ask what letter there was a loud hooting noise and Nuriel's gloved hands shot out, catching Torrigan mid leap as an owl descended next to them. "None of that now," He warned the cat sternly before nodding at Harry. "Take it from it."

He took the letter, wincing at the harsh bite the annoyed owl gave him before it flew off. The parchment it was written on was heavily and slightly yellow. He blinked in surprise as he read the address, written out in a brilliant emerald green ink that surely would have cost a fortune back home.

_Mr. H. Potter_

_Fairly large meadow to the northeast,_

_The Lost Forest,_

_Northern Vampire Reserve, _

_England_

"Potter?"

"Your family name. Ah, yes, do not use your surname here. You must leave Abhorsen behind for a while."

Harry frowned, not liking the idea of parting with the name but with a displeased nod, returned to his letter. He knew there were places in Ancelstierre and even the Old Kingdom where it didn't pay to use the Abhorsen name liberally. He flipped it over, staring at the wax seal for a moment, mouthing the unfamiliar name. He stared at his cousin in disbelief. "Hogwarts?"

Nuriel shrugged. "A name is never something to judge by. According to Sanguina the owls have been trying to deliver them to you for over a month, since your eleventh birthday."

"My eleventh birthday? But that was almost four months ago!" Harry cried, staring at the letter in his hand in confusion.

"Time travels differently between the Kingdoms." His cousin pointed at the cheerful sky above them. "Currently this world is entering fall, though it is fairly hot today."

He reached into his pack, flicking Torrigan on the nose when the cat followed his hand in and returned a moment later with a bound leather book.

"This almanac will show you the proper day and time in the Old Kingdom and Ancelstierre compared to your time." He pulled out another book, this one thinner and bound only in paper, "And this is a Wizarding almanac, one that works for this world. I have one as well; it is how I knew it was time for you to return and how I will know when to come and fetch you at the end of term."

He tucked the both books into Harry's own pack before waving him on to read the letter. Harry read it, feeling his eyebrows draw further and further together. When he finished he crumpled the letter disparagingly. "But I don't having anything on the list!"

"You have a cat." Nuriel pointed out less then helpfully. Harry let out a frustrated sound and glared down at Torrigan. The black cat simply yawned and stretched out in the bright sunlight. "I am sorry. I meant to get here with more time so we could go and shop for your things but we're running remarkably late."

Nuriel stood, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder at Harry's obvious distress. "What about the sickness? Why don't you seem as effected?"

"It will fade, give it time. Especially for you, Hariel. You are of this world. Free magic is a part of you as it is anything else here." Nuriel lifted both packs and slung them over his shoulder. "As for me, I have been here several times over the years. I have built up a tolerance." At Harry's shocked look, his cousin simply arched a graceful eyebrow. "What? Did you think I would send you blind into a world I know naught about? Come, we must hurry. There is a bath and change of clothes waiting for us. Then we must move quickly if we are going to make it on time."

The bath was far shorter then Harry's aching muscles would have preferred, though it was annoying that he had to actually bathe twice – once in cold water and then in hot – to get all of the grime off of him. Still, he felt refreshed as he dressed in the clothes his cousin had laid out for him. With exception of a rather confusing new pair of braies (instead of ending around his knees, the under-shorts ended at his thighs) he was pleased with what his cousin had packed for him.

The soft, padded green linen shirt felt wonderful on his aching skin, even if he wasn't a fan of the way the sleeve ends fell over his hands. The sleeve had several horizontal bands of emerald colored ribbon sown onto it though, embroidered with silver keys that greatly made up for it. Especially when he saw that neither his surcoat or anything else bearing his coat of arms was present in the clothes pile.

Harry cursed under his breath as he laced the front of the shirt up, trying to ignore how the joints in his hands ached as he did so. The Free magic made everything hurt and he could taste it, sharp and metallic in his mouth, making him scrape his tongue against his teeth in an attempt to rid himself of it. Giving up, Harry pulled on the pair of trousers left for him. Of a stiffer material then the shirt, the black linen was still a welcome change from the leather ones that Harry had to all but peel from his body earlier.

The jerkin left for him was of a deep chocolate brown color, almost black and from an animal he did not recognize. Perhaps some sort of kine. Though it looked sturdy it was soft, even the lacing that bound the various strips of leather together tightly yielded to his touch. The sleeves were short, ending just above his shoulder and felt strange after months of winter wear. It ended just above his knees and Harry found himself missing the length of his surcoat.

The jerkin was held closed at his chest by three large belts, though thankfully like the shirt left his throat free. After days off traveling with the itchy linen at his throat, he was more then pleased to leave it free. He pulled his belt on slowly, adjusting the dirk and seax and then carefully checking his pan pipes before stepping out of the bathroom.

He couldn't find his boots or socks and the stone was surprisingly chilly. Harry stared at his naked feet with a frown before glancing up in surprise as the door to the small antechamber opened.

A pair of vampire women descended upon him suddenly, nearly giving Harry a heart attack as they went at his hair, bickering in their native tongue until one got up and stormed out. Confused, Harry stared at the only remaining woman in confusion. The woman smiled, a single fang slipping over her bottom lip.

"She wanted to leave it down, such a terrible idea!"

"Ah." He managed after a moment, feeling slightly more nervous as the vampire advanced with a brush. Five minutes later and he was staggering from the room, a tight French braid holding his hair from his face. He ran a hand over it, truly stunned his hair still attached to his skull.

_Worse then the Charter sendings! I didn't think it was possible!_

He looked behind him, fearing the vampire woman had followed him but to his relief she simply wiggled her fingers at him from the dressing chamber. Letting out a sigh, he turned and stopped short, staring at his cousin with wide eyes. He had never seen Nuriel in anything other then his armor or house clothes. The man that stood before him scarcely looked like his cousin.

Clad almost entirely in black, Nuriel was an impressive sight. Only his doublet held any color. The velvet was a deep, rich blue that Harry knew he would forever associate with his familial line. A series of ties up the front held it close, stringed with silver silk. Only his collar gave any hints to his station, where twin silver keys were embroidered on either side. His hair fell freely across his shoulders and down his back, and as Harry marveled at its length, he realized he had never seen it out its customary pony tail.

The side of his cousin's lips twisted upward in small half smile before shoving a pair socks and knee boots into his hands. "Hurry now or we'll be truly late."

Obediently, Harry sat on the lengthy wooden bench that flanked the hallway and pulled the footwear on. The lacing proved to be difficult and to his surprise Nuriel knelt before him, practiced hands easily lacing the boots.

"We must get the sendings to stop doing everything for you." He remarked teasingly, causing a blush to erupt across Harry's face.

"I can tie my own boots!"

Nuriel simply shook his head, small smile still in place, and lead him from the room. Sanguina presented them with a pair of twin cloaks of a fine, heavy black wool. Harry smiled thankfully at the vampire, still a little unnerved by his presence. Though cousin Nuriel had assured them that they were bound to him by blood and Free magic, Harry did not know what to take of the dead who were not Dead. So it was with great hesitation that he took the vampire's offered arm, watching as an even darker looking man took his cousin's.

"One can not Apparate onto Hogwarts grounds," Sanguina explained softly to him, "But I shall take you to the end of the wards. A servant of mine should be waiting with horses for us to ride."

Harry nodded, swallowing nervously as the vampire's grip tightened upon his arm. Apparation was apparently some sort of form of instant travel that could be done. He didn't like the idea very much. It didn't sound safe. "What does one do to…Apparate?"

"Forgive me, Abhorsen, but it is illegal for one of your age to do so. I will take you." He listened attentively as Sanguina explained side-along apparation and what it entitled. When the vampire mentioned that it was not uncommon for underage humans to feel sick their first few apparitions, Harry felt himself pale. He'd been sick quite a bit lately. Sanguina patted his arm sympathetically. "Perhaps you shall not be, my lord."

"No," Nuriel had said somewhat crossly, "He will, I'm afraid." And then to Harry, "The Free magic will be quite a jolt."

He steeled himself against the spike in nausea and discomfort he already knew was coming but in the end, he was unprepared. It felt rather like being squeezed through a tube, only the tube was filled with an energy that made his stomach feel like it was being pulled inside out and his joints and bones ache all at once.

And then with an audible 'pop' the feeling left. Harry immediately keeled over, humiliated as Sanguina rested one large, cold hand on his forehead as the other kept his hair out of his face. He heaved until there was nothing left to vomit and though still red from his neck to the tip of his ears, Harry was grateful when the vampire helped him to his feet, steadying his shaking frame.

Nuriel looked rather displeased as well, flushed pink across his forehead and nose that could even be seen over his burn and Harry had not missed the ever so slight tremble of his hand as he held a flask out to him. Harry drank it greedily, surprised when he tasted the sweet wine. The alcohol instantly strength his disposition towards the Free magic however and after a moment of thought he took another hefty swing. Nuriel yanked it from his hands when he went for a third sip.

"Enough, I doubt they will be appreciative if I deliver you drunk."

Harry sent him a cheeky smile that earned him a smack as they mounted the horses left for them. They traveled quickly through a dense forest, very unlike the ones Harry had encountered on his way north. It was filled with strange Free magic beasts that both fascinated and repulsed Harry, and Sanguina explained each one in detail to him as they had passed it.

They were not attacked, though most of the beasts they had seen appeared quite capable of doing so. He didn't know if that was because of the vampire's presence or his cousin's that kept them at bay. Still, it was a fascinating place and since it apparently skirted his school, it seemed he would have the pleasure of investigating it.

When he spoke these words out loud, Sanguina had laughed and given him a sharp smile. "It is called the Forbidden Forest for a reason, young master."

One look at Nuriel's disapproving face and Harry had abandoned the idea with a sigh. It wasn't long before they came upon a paved road and an even shorter time once they set down it that Harry saw his school for the first time. The castle was huge and even from a distance, he could feel the power that radiated from the building. And there was something else, a weak pull that reminded him of the feeling he got when he had stood before the Charter Stone of High Bridge. He reached out with his senses, pushing past the Free magic to try and capture the feeling again but he could not find it. Frowning, he made to try again.

But then Nuriel had pulled his horse along side his own and for the first time, Harry noticed that he was without his bells. Only the sword of the Abhorsen and his own seax hung from his cousin's belt. Seeing his look, Nuriel sighed and gestured to the leather pack he carried over his shoulders. Why on earth was he keeping his bells in a sack?

"Cousin? Why do you not wear the Bells?"

Nuriel tensed in his saddle and the vampires who had been in deep talk next to him ceased their conversation completely. Sanguina exchanged a look with Nuriel above Harry's head that he easily caught, but neither man said anything. Thoroughly confused and slightly irked by the knowing looks that everyone kept exchanging around him, Harry tightened his grip on the reigns until his horse whinnied anxiously. Guilty, he let the reigns drop and turned to face his frowning cousin and repeated his question. This time, Nuriel answered him.

"The Bells are banned, Hariel. As is any form of necromancy. Here they are considered a Dark Art, punishable by death."

* * *

Okay, so we're just outside Hogwarts. Finally we've made it over the Wall. Next chapter will be the Sorting and a conversation with Harry's new house head, thus the title: Of Sortings and House Heads.

The Elder wood thing is a true superstition, don't ask me where I heard it from. A seax is a small knife that in medieval times people used for everything from cutting twine to eating with. Everyone one had their own and only free men would wear them.

The Free magic illness will fade for Harry, the more time he spends amongst it. Surnames in the old sense were names given to some, not naturally family names. So, Harry's surname is Abhorsen and his family name is Potter.

Hm…anyone want to throw out a guess at who the old woman at the last post was? And how do you all like Nuriel? I wasn't sure about him at first, but I've grown quite attached to the little bugger.

Please review!


	4. Of Sortings and House Heads

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything recognizable.

**Warnings: **Necromancer!Harry, possible Slytherin!Harry, slightly spoiled!Harry, socially inept!Harry, abusive!Dursleys, semi-Manpulative!Dumbledore, possible!Snarry or Severitus, death, dead things, violence, cursing. There will be romance, though don't know with who. And it will be a while for _any _romance to take place (Harry is only eleven for now). Hope you like Neville, he'll be in this quite a bit.

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"Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?"

- The Book of the Dead

**Abhorsen**

**Chapter 4**

_Of Sortings_

1992 – September 1st

"What kind of place have you sent me to?"

Harry couldn't help it; the slightly hysterical yell was out of his mouth before he could stop them or even think better of taking such a tone towards his cousin in front of others. Necromancy, banished? Even to the Abhorsen? How was Harry supposed to work? How was he supposed to become Abhorsen if he would be killed for simply using his craft? Nuriel did not reprimand him for his words.

"Home, Hariel." He answered quietly, his face suddenly looking drawn. "I have brought you home."

"It was not always so." Torrigan said dully from where he rode on Harry's shoulder. Harry glanced at him, having forgot about him in his shock. The cat looked wistful. Well, as much as a cat could look wistful.

"No, it wasn't." Sanguina agreed from Harry's left, staring at the Hogwarts castle with slightly hooded eyes. "Once, the Dead walked this world in many forms, as they do in the Old Kingdom. But the practicality of such magic was lost and in time, knowledge of it was forgotten. But that is for the best, truly, I believe."

Torrigan snorted and when he spoke, his tone was clipped. "That is arguable. The Wizards have grown complacent and stupid. When I was here last there was true power."

"You've been across the Breaching Wall before?" Harry asked curiously, bringing a hand up to itch at the side of the cat's ears, hoping the move would bribe him to answer. Torrigan glanced at him with calculating golden eyes and then nodded.

"Necromancers were once frequent, as was knowledge of the – umph." Torrigan made a series of grunts followed by an angry hiss.

From his saddle, Nuriel chuckled almost maliciously. "He can not speak of it, Hariel. It is of no use to ask him."

"Are there still any Necromancers today?" Harry asked, suddenly uncertain as to why he was there. If there were none to raise the Dead, why would this Kingdom need an Abhorsen?

"The few who practice it today scrap knowledge from old, tattered books as none still live to teach them." Sanguina mused, seeming to burn a hole through Harry as the vampire watched him. He felt a tendril of dread unravel itself in his stomach, a certainty that there was something much, much more to his last words. Harry could see himself reflected in those scarlet eyes, suddenly much older and very tired. And he knew very suddenly that what he was seeing was something that was to come, that the Harry he saw was one that had yet to come…and then Sanguina turned away and the spell was broken.

"It is more dangerous that way, though, in truth. For the self-taught to teach and meddle themselves in Death." Nuriel said slowly, turning to rest his eyes on the castle as well. Sanguina made a low noise in the back of his throat and Harry was left looking from his cousin to the vampire in confusion. Nuriel sighed and shook his head. "It is not a conversation to be had outdoors. Another time, Hariel."

Thoroughly rattled by the vision (if that's what it was) Harry was silent until they reached the castle. The Sight was a rare gift outside of the Clayr and when one did tend to have visions of the future, they almost always were of their own death. He tried to recall what he had seen, to cement it in his memory, but even as tried it was already fading. And then he couldn't remember it at all, only that he had Seen it.

_Was I about to die? Is that what I saw?_

But Harry couldn't answer that question and knew that until that moment came to pass, he would not be able to. And so he tried to push it away, focusing instead on the fact they seemed to have finally arrived at his school. A rather cruel looking man met them at the door, glaring at them as a large cat weaved its way in between his legs, hissing at the vampires. Sanguina hissed back, fangs barred for the first time for Harry to see and sent the cat shrieking back into the castle. The other vampires fell into a full laughter. On his shoulder, Torrigan stiffened at the treatment of his fellow feline but thankfully stayed silent. Harry truly hoped he would stay so, from what Nuriel had told him talking cats were extremely unusual here.

The man fixed an icy stare on the vampire lord. "Your kind ain't welcome here."

Instantly, Harry decided he didn't like him. Nuriel dismounted and Harry followed suit, Torrigan jumping from his shoulders as he gave his reigns to Sanguina's keeping.

"My cousin is here to start his first term." Nuriel said smoothly as he approached the man, handing him Harry's letter. The man stared it, his eyes widening almost comically before his mouth dropped open.

"P-Potter?" He stuttered, suddenly staring at Harry with wide eyes, "Is this some sort of joke?"

"I assure you it is not." His cousin replied dryly, eyeing the man in distaste.

But the man was not be persuaded. "'very body knows Harry Potter was tak'n from his relatives. The boy is dead."

"I am not!" Harry shouted, outraged. His cousin sent him a sharp look and Harry smiled back apologetically, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. "Sorry."

"Let me see your scar then." Harry blinked at the man in surprise. His scar? The lightening bolt one? The sendings had always parted his hair to the side, pushing almost all of his bangs over to hide the thing and other then its unique shape (and the fact that it hurt sometimes after he dreamed) he'd never given it much thought. With a shrug, Harry pushed his hair out of the way. The man actually took a step backwards, suddenly clutching his hands at his chest. "Sweet Merlin."

The sound of clapping erupted from behind them and Harry watched as his cousin snapped his fingers in front of the gaping man's face. "Sir, if you don't mind, we are very late."

Still muttering to himself, the man led them to a pair of gilded doors that were as tall as the wall itself. Harry stared at them, watching in awe as the carvings moved and twisted across the doors. He'd never seen anything like it before.

"The Sorting's already started, I should announce ya."

"That will not be necessary." Nuriel said stiffly, stepping past the man and pushing the great doors open as if they weighed nothing. All sounds stopped almost immediately. The first thing Harry saw was hundreds of floating candles and then the ceiling. Or rather lack there of. It seemed to be showing the night sky.

_Magic. And not a Charter mark anywhere to be seen._

It was Free magic - all of it - and despite the fact that feeling of being sick had returned with a viciousness Harry stared up at it with wide, disbelieving eyes. To think, something like that could be achieved with Free magic. He felt an excitement begin to grow in the pit of his stomach, just past the nausea. Perhaps learning Free magic could be a good thing after all.

"Hariel, don't dawdle!" The sound of his cousin's sharp voice made Harry snapped his head down from the ceiling and he was embarrassed to find Nuriel half way down the Hall and staring at him expectantly. He immediately moved to join him, Torrigan threading himself in between his legs in a very annoying, kittenish manner; just barely missing Harry's feet as they descended. He hurried to his cousin's side, eyes still drifting upwards.

An exotic looking boy stood in front of a stool, staring at them with curious dark eyes. Next to him stood a stern looking woman whose gaze instantly made Harry feel as if he had something on his shirt. The woman, a professor no doubt, gave the still boy a light swat on the behind.

"To your table then, Mr. Zabini." The exotic boy gave him one last look and then made his way over the table furthest to Harry's right. An assorted group of people sat at the High Table behind the woman, all dressed rather strangely in his opinion and all watching him with inquisitive expressions. The head of the table, an old man with half moon spectacle and a long, silvery beard was staring hard at him, a look on his face that seemed a mix of desperation and hope.

It made him distinctively uncomfortable and Harry quickly looked away.

"My cousin is here to begin his first term." Nuriel announced, seemingly uncaring that every eye in the Great Hall was staring at him curiously. "Forgive our tardiness; I fear my business prevented us from arriving sooner."

"All of our students are accounted for." The stern woman said slowly, turning to look back at the old man Harry had seen before with an unreadable look.

"I assure you, he is on your list." Nuriel said sharply, "You will find him under P."

The woman visibly blanched but looked back down at her list, her hands oddly shaking. She almost whispered his name as she read it off the list. "Potter, Hariel."

There was an explosion of chatter behind him and Harry reeled around to stare at the student body, eyes wide. No one, _no one_, called him Harry. But every other student in the school seemed to be repeating his name over and over again, like some sort of twisted mantra. Sanguina had mentioned briefly that his name was well known, but hadn't really explained why. Something to do with a war and his familial standings in it. But this was…this was…

_Extremely disturbing._

"Did she say, Harry Potter? It can't be, he died when he was-"

"Harry Potter, I don't believe it-"

"The Boy Who Lived! Wait until-"

"I've got to owl mother, Harry Potter! She'll-"

His cousin seemed to sense his growing panic and he laid his arm comfortingly over his shoulders and Harry stepped closer to him, trying to ignore the fact that they where still talking of him. The entire High Table was staring at him strangely as well, a mix of shock and awe. The old man's cheeks actually looked wet, but that simply couldn't be anything but a trick of the light.

_He can't be crying,_ he thought wearily, _why would he cry when he hears my name? He doesn't even know me._

The stern woman seemed to come to her senses first. She stepped forward and cleared her throat, her domineering presence silencing the Hall almost immediately.

"I believe that is enough of that!" She snapped, eyeing each one of the long tables in turn. "We still have a student to sort." When she looked at him, her eyes were soft. She gestured for him to sit upon the stool. "This is the Sorting Hat. It will sort you into what House you belong to. Your House will serve as your family while at school, Harry."

"Hariel, ma'am." Harry corrected automatically, only to jump slightly as Nuriel pinched his shoulder. "Er, I mean, yes ma'am."

He climbed upon the stool, staring at the Hat distrustfully. What if it was of Free magic? Did he really have to put it on? What would it do to his head? What if it burned all his hair off or something? A desperate look at his cousin found the Abhorsen simply watching him, arms crossed. The moment the hat touched his head, Harry new his early assessment of it had been wrong. It wasn't Free magic at all, but a Charter construct built by a very strong mage of the Charter. It was very hard to explain what happened next, as it seemed like several things happened at once.

The corrosive feel of Free magic left him in one glorious wave, replaced by the song of the Charter that grew and grew until it was overwhelming loud, seemingly echoing in the hollow of his chest. A warmth spread in his belly that shot up to his forehead, his baptismal Charter mark flaring in response. Harry instinctively gripped the stool with both hands as he felt the world below him spin, afraid he would fall off. And then everything stopped; even Harry's breath.

And that was when he felt the other presence.

A single Charter mark, one that Harry had never seen before, formed itself in his mind. It was a complex thing, seemingly formed from multiple marks overlaid atop each other and burned brightly in his mind before fading. It was only after the warmth of his own Charter mark faded in kind, did Harry realize what he had been looking at.

_A Charter baptismal!_

But could something that wasn't truly alive have such a thing?

"_And who says I am not alive?" _ A low voice whispered into his ear and Harry shuddered, feeling the wisps of hair that escaped his braid brush against his neck. _"True, no one bore me, but I exist nonetheless. Shouldn't you of all people not know that life is a varied thing?" _

"Of course!" Harry stuttered, feeling quite admonished. He was suddenly aware that the Hat was a very, very old thing. "Forgive me."

There was a full laugh that seemed to echo in his head. _"No need to speak out loud."_

"_Oh." _ That thought earned him another laugh.

"_We haven't one of your kind for many years, Abhorsen." _

Harry froze, grip tightening on the stool lip. What if the Hat told someone what he was? He shuddered as he suddenly saw himself strung up on the gibbet, the student body that watched him just moments ago with such awe morphing into a hateful mob.

"_Be calm, child."_ The Hat said and Harry could feel its smirk, _"I shall speak nothing of your secrets."_

"_You won't?" _

The Hat huffed and Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end as the breath suddenly washed over his face. _"Do not insult me twice, boy." _

Harry paled as the Hat fell silent. Had he offended it so that it no longer wished to sort him? What if it did refused to sort him? What then? But even as the silence stretched on and Harry begun to really worry, he felt the Hat sigh against his neck.

"_Your kind's minds are always very annoying to sort." _

"…_sorry?" _Harry offered, biting his lip. He heard someone cough and remembered abruptly that he was still sitting in front of the majority of the people he would be schooling with. Hoping to keep from further embarrassing himself, he asked (very politely) if the Hat could sort him.

The Hat snorted. _"Of course I can. Very well then."_

"_A quick mind, though I doubt Ravenclaw would suit one of your…talents. And courage, oh my yes, and a deep understanding of fealty. You would do Gryffindor well. However I wonder…perhaps a more familiar road would be better for one such as you. Slytherin would give you greatness and much, much more… Hm, a tough case indeed. Either house would serve you well. Perhaps you have a preference?" _

"_What? You want me to choose?" _Harry sputtered, incapable of keeping the incredulity out of his tone. _"B-But you're the Sorting Hat!" _

"_Either would serve you tremendously, Abhorsen."_

Harry sighed and then titled the hat brim up, blinking slightly against the seemingly bright light of the Hall before cocking his head back to look at his cousin. It took a bit of angling to do so without knocking the oversized thing off but after a moment Harry managed it.

"Cousin? It's, um, giving me a choice."

"It knows far better then you," Nuriel answered with a long suffering sigh. "Go where it deems best for you."

"Yes, Cousin."

"_Well," _The Hat sung in Harry's ear, _"In that case, you'd better be-"_

"Slytherin!"

The Hat was removed from his head immediately and Harry barely managed to get off the stool without falling over. Free magic hit him like a wall after being so close to such pure Charter magic. His cousin instantly moved to steady him and Harry gave him a weak smile, words of thanks half past his lips when he realized that entire Hall was staring at him once again.

This time however it was in horror.

Only one table, the one where the boy had gone earlier, seemed anything other then horrified. Some were even laughing. A wearily glance at the High Table found those sitting there in a similar state. One man, clad in black, had even brought one of his hands up to rub at his forehead, a look of complete disgust on his face. More then a little disconcerted at the Halls reaction, Harry stepped closer into the towering safety that was his cousin. Nuriel placed both hands on his shoulders, the movement instantly quieting his fears with its familiarity.

"I have not had a chance to purchase Hariel's school supplies. As such, I shall be taking him for the day tomorrow. I would like to speak with his House Head…and your Headmaster I suppose. You must have questions."

"Of course." The woman said, her words only slightly faltering. "Come with me."

His cousin pushed him towards the table to his direct left. He froze, staring back at his cousin with wide, slightly panicked eyes. "That is your House table, Hariel. Do try and behave until I return."

Harry nodded slowly, walking towards the table. He supposed it was a good thing that it was the table that didn't seemed completely distraught of his sorting. The table was dead silent as he sat down, every eye in the Hall staring at him. The students around him watched him with a curiosity that bordered on morbid. It was then that the terrifying realization hit him.

_Dear Charter, I'm actually going to have to talk to them!_

He'd never spoken to anyone other then his cousins and Sulyn didn't really count, he'd never met her in person. His verbal conversations were limited to Nuriel or the cats, certainly not anyone near his own age. He cleared his throat awkwardly, acutely aware they were waiting for him to address them and gave the table a small smile.

"Hello, I'm Hariel Potter."

And like a dam had broken, the Hall erupted into deafening noise.

* * *

_Of House Heads_

Harry stared at his pudding red faced. Not for the first time he looked hopefully over towards the doors his cousin had disappeared through, but Nuriel was nowhere to be seen. Harry ducked his head again, using his spoon to push the chocolate around. His entire table was pointedly ignoring him, even the exotic looking boy – now named Blaise Zabini - who had been the first to speak to him refused to look at him.

He took a sip of his pumpkin juice, face wrinkling slightly at the taste. It was far sweeter then what he was used to, though not terrible. The blonde boy, Draco, was speaking loudly at the other end of the table. Despite the fact that nearly every other word out of the blonde's mouth was some sort of praise towards himself, most of the table listened as if entranced; even the older students. Even if Draco hadn't spoken at length about his family status, Harry would have been able to see the social standing he held anyway. To see Marcus Flint, a fourth year who appeared to be fourteen going on thirty, defer to the eleven year old was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever seen. The table treated him like royalty and Harry had already angered him. Not that he had meant to.

"_So tell me, Potter,"_ The blonde had asked curiously, _"Where have you been all this time?"_

"_With vampires." _Harry had answered on reflex, falling back on the faked history that had been drilled into him by his cousin on the short ride over. He hoped he wouldn't ask anything else, the history was rather hastily put together. The blonde's surprised words had been lost in a shout from the Gryffindor table, where a fellow first year was suddenly turning a vibrant yellow. The Malfoy had sneered and Harry had watched with a strange fascination as the beautiful face warped into something very ugly indeed.

_"Stupid mudbloods. Why they don't force students to submit their genealogy to the school, I won't ever understand. My father is right. We purebloods will be a minority before too long. Do you think blood purity should matter, Potter?" _

Not completely sure what he was talking about and missing the pointed looks that should have cued him in on the importance behind the casually asked question, Harry said the first thing that came to mind _"Er, why should it?" _

It had been like he'd insulted Draco's family name or something. All conversation died out. Almost as one, every Slytherin student turned to stare at him. Some even had their mouths open. Draco had said something along the lines of that he should have known better, _"A house sorting can't change everything."_

Never before had Harry ever been grateful to his cousin Sulyn for the long, extremely boring correspondence she'd kept with him about the going ons of Royal court life. The Crown Princess had insisted that it was an essential missing block of his education and she meticulously explained every word, every snicker, every _everything_ that ever took place between people in the court. He didn't need her teachings now, though. It was clear that he'd misstepped; said something that went against the collective sense of the culture here and made a fool of himself. He'd become untouchable, unassociable.

All in his first two hours of school.

Dejectedly Harry wondered if he could somehow convince Sulyn to come to Hogwarts with him. The sharp witted fifteen year old princess would have the table eating out of her hand before the night was over.

He risked a look up from his pudding only to freeze when he met with a pair of light, brown eyes. The first thing Harry thought was that he had to have something on his face for the other boy to be looking at him such intensity. The second thing was that such fierce eyes seemed out of place on such a gangrel lad. He was easily the tallest first year at the table, though his height seemed mismatched with the rest of his body.

"Fix your bangs." The boy said gruffly before digging into his slice of cake fiercely. Harry blinked, reaching up a hand to find that his bangs had been somewhat parted at the middle. He smoothed them out so they once again hid the marks on his forehead and returned to staring at his pudding.

_That was…strange._

What was that boy's name? Hadn't Blaise introduced everyone shortly before his word blunder? _Theodore Nott, _his mind supplied quietly. Harry had always had a good memory, it came natural to his line he'd been told. Besides, Nuriel had had him playing all kinds of games as a child to increase his memory capabilities. He was so involved on trying to figure out why Theodore had spoken to him (more importantly, would he speak to him again? Harry was not fond of the idea of spending his education here as the proverbial black sheep) that he didn't even notice that the conversation around him had died out until Theodore pointedly cleared his throat and gestured behind Harry.

"Do try and pay a little more attention to your surroundings, Hariel." He was out of his seat in an instant, cheeks burning as he noticed the rebuke in his cousin's eyes. He relaxed slightly as he saw the small up turn of Nuriel's lips, the only sign that his words were not meant to be taken to heart.

"Forgive me, Cousin." Harry frowned. His cousin's appearance had a distinctively ruffled look to it. He knew better to ask though, at least not when they were surrounded by unknowns. The tall, imposing looking man that Harry had noticed from the High table early stood next to his cousin, dwarfing him with his height and giving him a look of such offense that Harry couldn't help but wonder if someone had told him of his unthinking words about blood purity already.

_Fabulous, I've managed to offend my House Head already. _

Wearily, he followed his cousin out of the Hall. He was brought back to the entry hall, chewing on the bottom of his lips as he tried to be optimistic despite the nasty little voice in the back of his head warning him that he'd already doomed his school carrier.

"Hariel." He caught his cousin's pointed look and let his lip fall from between his teeth guilty. They'd had multiple talks about what Nuriel had termed 'Hariel's little tell.' He gestured to the tall man next to him. "This is Professor Snape. He is your House Head."

Harry's body formed an almost perfect right angle as he bowed, arms tucked firmly against his sides. It was a tad bit deeper then what etiquette called for, but Harry figured if he had somehow angered his House Head, being extra polite couldn't hurt anything.

"It is an honor to meet you, sir." He said softly as he rose. The expression on his Professor's face had changed slightly, though the disdain was still there.

"As I shall be unreachable for many months, you are to go to him for your needs. I expect you to obey him as all times. I have already given him permission to discipline you as he sees fit." Harry nodded grimly, trying not to think about just how 'unreachable' his cousin truly would be once he returned Over the Wall.

"My Lord," A soft voice said to his left and Harry jumped, staring at Sanguina with wide eyes. When had the vampire gotten there? "Are you ready to depart?"

"Quite." Nuriel said dryly and once again Harry looked at his cousin curiously. Perhaps something had happened with the Headmaster? A gentle touch on his forearm brought his attention back to the vampire next to him. Sanguina smiled down at him, his head bowing slightly in respect. Harry gave him a small smile in return, still unsure how he felt about the dead who weren't Dead but wholly glad the vampire man wasn't staring at him the way those in the Great Hall had been.

Nuriel turned to Snape, his lips a sharp frown. "I shall arrive tomorrow for him at the sixth hour. I trust you will be able to retrieve his key from the giant?"

The Professor nodded, "He shall be waiting for you here."

"You have my thanks – and again, my apologies on our lateness." His cousin turned to Harry, the frown lessening as he rested a hand on his shoulder. At his gesture, Sanguina swung the pack he'd been carrying forward and dug out a book. Nuriel took it, staring at it with an emotion that Harry couldn't quite place and then handed it to him.

"There is much I have not…I meant to…read the marked chapter." His cousin finished quietly. Slightly alarmed at the seriousness of the tone, not to mention that he could not recall the last time his usually unflappable cousin had been at a lost of words, Harry looked down at the book in his hands. _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _was inscribed on the leather in gilded script, a fabric book mark buried deep in its pages. Perhaps something that had to do with his ancestors then?

A squeeze of his shoulder, a soft, "Until tomorrow" and then Nuriel was gone, speaking in low tones with Sanguina as they passed the very angry form of the man from before, his cat cradled in his arms. Harry couldn't help the way his shoulders drooped as his cousin's frame disappeared from view. For a moment he could only stare, watching mutely as the large doors to the outside closed. Free magic flared around them and Harry felt himself shudder against it, watching as the iron locks on the door slid shut by unseen hands. Frowning, Harry turned to the book in his hands and easily flipped it to the marked page.

_The Deaths of James and Lily Potter and the Boy Who Lived: How the Greatest Dark Wizard of Our Time was Defeated._

It felt like someone had replaced his insides with lead, his breath suddenly ragged to his ears. He wanted to throw the book away, refuse to ever touch it again. But a sudden, all encompassing need to know drove him to read on.

_Harry James Potter was born on July 31, 1980 at __St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. One has to wonder if Healer Mungo Bunham ever dreamed __that a child of such greatness would be born at his establishment. Certainly the Mediwitches that brought him into the world did not. Slightly underweight, young Harry had put his mother through almost eighteen hours of labor and for a while, they had feared the child would be lost. _

_It is astonishingly hard not to think, as this author stares at the baby picture before him (provided by a close family friend) that he looks seemingly normal in every way a baby should be. It seems impossible to think that before his second birthday, Harry Potter will have single handedly brought down the most evil Wizard of our time._

_Who could have possibly known that this child would become the Boy Who Lived? Possibly the most powerful Wizard of our time? Below is an attempt to piece together what happened that fateful night.  
_

_October 31, 1981 – Godric's Hollow, England _

_It was a cold, crisp night that saw He Who Must Not Be Named at Godric's Hollow…_

* * *

…Yeah. Nuriel totally left Harry to find out about his 'heritage' via book. Like I said, no idea of tact whatsoever. Poor Harry. On top of that, he's already alienated himself from his house. You think Nuriel would have given Harry a little more background before sending him to the wolves. But they were running rather late…Expect the next chapter up somewhere over the weekend.

As for why Torrigan can't speak of being Over the Wall before, even with them being so far from the Charter, will be revealed later.

Oh and Hogwarts is going to have _so _much fun with the Boy Who Lived being raised by Vampires and sorted into Slytherin. They don't even know about his Parselmouth or necromancy abilities yet. The back story with the Vampires will be explained more next chapter, but how they expect anyone to believe it with Harry's lack of knowledge of the magical world or vampires, I don't know. Well. Actually, I do. I did write it…I mean, er.

Okay. Nevermind.

The Hat being a Charter construct was an idea that grew out of the concept of no one being able to replicate it and it's self awareness and ability to sort being so unique for any kind of magical construct. (Go Reflections, my buddybud.)

No, Harry's not a blood purist. He doesn't know enough about the culture. He's just thinking along the lines that he's said something completely stupid or insulting about Wizarding culture. And to some of the Slytherins, I'm sure he has.

Please review! I love hearing from you guys!


	5. Of Strange Things and Old Debts

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything recognizable.

**Warnings: **Necromancer!Harry, possible Slytherin!Harry, slightly spoiled!Harry, socially inept!Harry, abusive!Dursleys, semi-Manpulative!Dumbledore, possible!Snarry or Severitus, death, dead things, violence, cursing. Now without slash. Really, I suck at it. There will be romance, though don't know with who. And it will be a while for _any _romance to take place (Harry is only eleven for now). Hope you like Neville, he'll be in this quite a bit.

Don't worry, we'll have a smart Draco. He's just going to be a prat for a bit. I mean, he is eleven. Who wasn't a prat at that age?

Happy 4th to everyone who's American. Hope no one blew anything up with fireworks. Already one dead and two injured in my neck of the woods. But seriously, who works with power tools when their garage is packed with fireworks. … Here's your sign.

Love to Reflections, btw.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

* * *

"I don't understand," Sabriel whispered. She couldn't face Mogget's eyes anymore. "I don't know…I don't know enough. About anything."

- Sabriel, 53rd Abhorsen of the Old Kingdom to Mogget

**Abhorsen**

**Chapter 5**

_Of Strange Things_

1992 – September 1st

He didn't know how long he stood there, staring in disbelief at the book in his hands. His mind was in a flurry of activity, his thoughts flying off in so many different directions it was hard for Harry to follow. There were so many questions he had that he could hardly understand which ones were making him upset.

How long had Nuriel known how his parents had truly died? How long had he left him with the thought that his parents died in a car crash, his father drunk behind the wheel? And if he did know, why hadn't his cousin told him before now? And at the same time, he couldn't help but feel like there had been some sort of terrible mistake. He'd even asked his House Head, voice trembling, if what he'd read was true. The man had looked at him, the strangest expression of disbelief on his face, and nodded.

Harry had promptly made his way over to a nearby bench and sat down, tucking his head between his legs in an attempt to keep from hyperventilating. In a stunning move of loyalty, Torrigan being the prat that he was, decided that this was the perfect time to explore the castle and abandoned him to his confusion. It was all too much. The trip across the wall, the Free magic, his apparent fame and now this!

It had to be a mistake. How in the name of the Charter could Harry have defeated someone as strong as this Voldemort character when he was just a babe? If he was truly that powerful, why couldn't he have protected his parents? He just wanted to go home. Go back over the Breaching Wall and forget that this awful place ever existed.

Why, _why_, had Nuriel kept this from him?

And then one thought hit him, terrible in its implications. If Harry was some sort of hero here, why had they left with him with the Dursleys? There was a soft _pop_ in front of him and a wave of Free magic so strong that Harry's head instinctively snapped to look up. The strangest and quite possibly ugliest creature he'd ever seen was standing at eye level with him. For a moment he just stared, eyes wide, and then he nearly threw himself away from it, arms splayed wide and back pressed against the wall.

The creature, a strange sort of brownish-grey color with large ears and even larger eyes, let out a squeak. "No, Master! Don't be fearing, Bucket!"

"B-Bucket?" Harry repeated, still pressed against the wall.

"Yes sir. Bucket is being Harry Potter's house elf, sir! Bucket has waited a long time for master to be coming back, sir!" Bucket's spindly hands twisted the edge of her pillowcase as she stared up at him with tearful eyes. It was clear that his fear was distressing for her. At least, he thought it was a her. As he watched, large crocodile shaped tears made there way down the tip of her nose.

"Uh, don't cry." Harry managed, forcing himself to lean forward slightly. "It is quite alright. You just startled me." _What in the name of…house elf? What the heck is a house elf?_

There was another _pop _and suddenly Bucket was holding a cup of tea in her hands. She offered it to him, her luminescent blue eyes looking so hopeful that Harry took it without question and downed it gratefully in one sip. It was only when the hot tea was in his stomach did Harry realize what he'd just seen.

"Bucket, another tea if you wouldn't mind."

The house elf seemed completely floored by the request and a second later, Harry was holding a full teacup. The magic the house elf used was completely Free in it's origins but he thought he could see…if he could just manage to push past the swarm of Free magic…yes, there. Charter bindings. A Free magic creature bound by Charter magic. He could see them now, a series of marks crafted in sets of lines across the elf's forehead and ears, hidden from sight by magic. Marks for binding and servitude, as well as marks that would limit how powerful the creature could become. And an another set to limit who their power could be used on and in what ways.

It was the damnest thing he'd ever seen.

"Will master be needed anything else from Bucket, sir?"

"No, thank you." The elf sniffled, her eyes filling with tears again as Harry stared at her mystified, unsure of what he had said to set her off.

"Master is so kind to Bucket, sir. If – sniff – master be needed Bucket, master just needs to be saying Bucket's name, sir."

And then with another soft _pop_, the house elf was gone. Harry stared at the place where she had been before groaning and placing his head in his hands once more, teacup forgotten by his side. It was truly staring to sink in now, how much he didn't know about this place. How was he supposed to learn anything here? How was he supposed to successfully lie about where he'd been for the last five years? He hadn't even known the truth about his own parent's deaths! Something, apparently, everyone else in the Wizarding world knew.

Frustration and panic was a tight ball in his stomach as he sat on the hard wooden bench, trying to calm his breath and not think about how incredibly in over his head he truly was. He wished it was morning so he could ask Nuriel the questions he had. Questions? Never mind questions. Harry was going to beg his cousin to take him home. Education be damned. Nuriel was a Free magic adept, that would be more then enough for him.

"Potter, if you are done with your breakdown, I suggest you join your Housemates." The caustic voice of his House Head broke through his thoughts and Harry looked up to find that the doors to the Great Hall were opening and the stern Professor watching him with the same sneer of contempt from before.

He felt his blush erupt as he realized that his entire episode had been under the scrutiny of the Professor. He could hear the rebuke his cousin would give, clear in his head as if the Abhorsen was standing next to him. Something along the lines of maintaining composure at all times. He muttered an apology, incapable of looking up at the man for embarrassment and joined the line of Slytherins who had made there way through the double doors.

The rest of the night passed in a blur for Harry. They made a brief stop at the bathrooms nearest to their common room and the rules of their use and when one could be out of bed to use them were explained and then they were lead even deeper into the dungeons (what kind of place is this for children to stay? Harry couldn't help but think) and then they were before a great portrait.

The prefect in front of him, a tall, black haired boy named Lucian Dole, told them their password and explained that it would change bi-weekly and they best remember it as no one would let them in if they forgot.

It was a full hour before Harry had a chance to escape his fellow students. The room Harry would be occupying was a long, barrack-esk one, with lines of beds on either side. Thankfully the beds had curtains for privacy and Harry had pulled his close around him immediately.

Harry went about spelling his bed, placing Charter marks for silence and privacy on the curtains to ensure that he wouldn't be disturbed. The marks, which were some of the easiest that Harry had ever learned, were a trial to get out. But after fifteen minutes of struggling he managed to slide them off his finger tips and he watched, encouraged, as they sank into the bed.

_At least Nuriel was telling the truth about that. Perhaps my Charter magic isn't as lost as I thought. _

He changed and tried to sleep, but no matter what he did his mind refused to stop thinking about the days events. Torrigan returned near dawn, refusing to answer where he'd been or how he'd gotten past the portrait. The only thing the cat seemed willing to remark on was Harry's blunders of the night before. The tirade went on for what seemed like forever, with Harry sinking further and further into his covers in embarrassment before the cat stopped. When the silence dragged on, Harry dared to peak at him, hoping the cat had finally gone to sleep. Golden eyes were watching him, a malicious glint in them.

"You'd best get up and dressed. Abhorsen will be here any minute, lazy boy."

Harry obeyed without question and with a face of disgust, pulled on his traveling clothes. He was surprised to find that they'd been cleaned thoroughly and Harry thought back to their stay with the vampires in confusion. He knew they hadn't been there long enough for laundry to be done. But the grime of travel was clearly gone.

The common room was abandoned, which didn't surprise Harry. His cousin had said he would be picking him up at an early hour. He was slightly surprised to find that his House Head was not waiting for him there but with a shrug, Harry left and made his way down to the front doors.

He was on the stairs that led up to the entry hall when he ran into Professor Snape. One look on the dour man's face and Harry knew he was in trouble, the greeting dying on his lips.

"What are you doing out of bed, Potter?"

Harry flinched at the harsh words. Had his House Head forgotten? "I'm to meet my cousin at the front doors soon, sir."

"It's three thirty in the morning, fool boy. Your cousin will not be here for another two hours. Are you so incompetent that you can not tell time?" Harry shot a glare down at the cat by his side. Torrigan was licking his paw with such an air of smugness that he had to fight to keep from punting the cat. He gasped as Professor Snape's gripped his elbow with iron-like strength, nearly dragging him back to the common room. As they neared the portrait, the Professor stopped and spun around to face him, his lips pursed so tightly they had gone white.

"Listen to me, Potter." The complete and utter loathing in his tone caught Harry off guard. He'd never heard anyone ever say a name as if it was curse before. "I have no idea what kind of pampered up bringing you come from, though I am aware that your _cousin_ travels quite a bit and you're used to being king of the castle, but here there are rules."

The grip on his elbow tightened until he couldn't help but wince, biting his bottom lip to keep from crying out. "And I promise you that I will be here to enforce them. This is the only warning I'm going to give you, boy. If I catch you outside after hours again, I'll have you scrubbing cauldrons with me in detention until you graduate. Is that understood?"

Harry nodded, slightly dazed. His House Head all but shoved him over the threshold before spinning on his boot heel, a hissed warning that Harry better be in ready for him when he returned. And then in a flurry of robes he was gone.

For a moment all Harry could do was stare at the closed portrait, his mouth slightly ajar. Was this all from what he'd said at the table earlier? Wearily, he collapsed on one of the many leather couches scattered about.

"Well, that went well, didn't it?" Torrigan announced casually from his spot on the adjacent coffee table.

"Shut up you stupid git." Harry growled up, screwing his eyes shut and bringing his fists up to press against them. "Why'd you have to do that anyway?"

"Why not?" Was the cat's answer.

Harry forced himself to take a deep breath, fighting the urge to throttle the animal. "I don't know, Torrigan. Maybe because it's made my House Head even crosser with me?"

"He does seem to dislike you, doesn't he? Must have a good judge of character."

With a groan, Harry slid his fingers into his hair, gritting his teeth. He withdrew them quickly, aware that he'd made a mess of his braid and then trudged upstairs to the dormitory. He spent the next few hours fighting with his unruly hair, barely managing to get it into an acceptable looking plait, trying to ignore the disparaging commentary that Torrigan seemed to have picked up once again.

* * *

_Of Old Debts_

1992 – September 2nd

Harry kept his eyes adverted as he followed his obviously still angry Professor towards the front door. He could feel the man's glare on him as they walked, like a physical weight across his shoulders. At least Torrigan had decided to stay behind. He didn't know if he could take them both. When he saw the tall form of his cousin, Harry all but leapt to his side in relief. He was so intent on escaping Professor Snape's ire that he managed to completely miss the fact that his cousin and the Headmaster seemed to be in the middle of an argument.

He stood awkwardly between the two, swallowing uncertainly as he watched his cousin level the old man with his coldest stare. There was an extremely large man standing next to the Headmaster, grinning at Harry like a fool.

"Cousin?" He asked carefully, "Are we going?"

"Yes." Nuriel's voice was steely. "This is Rubeus Hargid, Hariel. The grounds keeper here. He'll be accompanying us to Diagon Alley."

Harry deflated. How was he suppose to ask his questions now? He bowed politely to the goliath of a man before scrambling after his cousin and down the caste steps. The long walk that it took to cross out of the wards was a silent one. His cousin was visibly angry and the two vampires that had accompanied him (later introduced to Harry as Misha and Vetter) seemed to pick up on his mood and remained a respectful distance from the group.

The man, Hargid, tried to talk with Harry a few times and he'd tried to answer to his best abilities but the grounds keeper seemed to pick up on Harry's mood and fell silent. It was soon after that Harry was introduced to a second method of Wizarding travel; floo powder. After a short trip through a fireplace (and how bizarre was that, really) Harry decided he rather preferred this way over the Apparation. For one thing, the overwhelming wave of Free magic was nothing more then a prickle with floo. Secondly, seeing his usually pristine cousin with soot on his clothes was hilarious, though Harry kept his snickers to himself out of fear of Nuriel's wrath.

They'd left the vampires in Hogsmeade, the small little village they'd flooed from, but the giant man seemed to be glued to their side. Intent on explaining loudly to anyone who'd listen who they were and why they there as he showed them the password to enter the alley. The resulting dress down by his cousin was not surprising for Harry, but he couldn't help but feel guilty as Hargid visibly drooped, his bottom lip quivering like a child.

"-and if you're done calling unwanted attention – attention that _clearly_ makes him uncomfortable – we'll be taking his bank key and be on our way." Harry watched as the ground keeper dug through his pockets, pulling out all kinds of strange and disgusting things before handing over a large, oversized key. Nuriel took it from him, holding it with his gloved fingers as if it was something disgusting before placing it in a leather pouch at his side.

Harry gave Hargid an apologetic smile, he knew what it was like to be on the end of Nuriel's wrath when he was having a bad day, which seemed to cheer the large man up immensely. To his surprise, his cousin didn't take them down the alleyway but lead them back into the tavern they'd flooed into and up a stairway and into a small room.

He watched as his cousin sealed the room behind them, seemingly effortlessly working Charter marks for silencing and muffling. At Nuriel's gesture, Harry sat on the edge of the bed, his cousin taking the only chair. For a moment his cousin simply watched him and then with a sigh, instructed him to ask his questions.

They exploded from him with such a force that Harry had to stop and start again in order for Nuriel to understand him. He started with the one which had plagued him the most.

"How long did you know about what happened to my parents?"

There was a silence, then; "I've always known."

Harry stared at him, completely aghast. "Why would you not tell me of such a thing?"

Nuriel sighed, running a hand over his mouth as he gathered his thoughts. "The Clayr came to me, shortly after you were born. They told me of you and that a dark man would kill you and your family. I traveled across the Wall as quickly as I could, but when I arrived your parents were already dead. You…you were dead as well."

Everything in Harry froze. No, no, no – he was a freak. Something against the very laws of the Charter. His uncle had been right. He felt panic wash over him as he shook his head in disbelief. Nuriel's hand shot out and grabbed his chin, the pressures of his fingers making Harry focus once more.

"Do you really think I'd disobey the laws of the Charter?" Nuriel asked in a sharp whisper. "I baptized you, the Charter accepted you. I brought you back from the threshold, yes, but you hadn't even left the First Precinct."

He listened in rapt attention as his cousin told him the events of that night and his actions. Nuriel seemed to already know his next question and explained his reasons for leaving him behind that day and had reassured him that he was unaware that it would end with him being left with Dursleys. Had he known, Nuriel emphasized, he would have not have crossed without leaving Harry in a safer place.

Nuriel explained what little he knew of the Wizarding War and in the end simply told Harry that he would have to purchase a book on it if he wanted to truly know. Harry asked every question he had acquired over the night and honestly couldn't help but be a little disappointed when he realized his cousin did not know the answer to many of them. He did seem to know what blood purity was and he explained it in detail to a horrified Harry.

"You mean I'm in a house full of bigots?"

Nuriel smiled thinly.

"It would seem so. But keep in mind that that is the climate of your environment." His cousin held up a hand to silence him. "I am not saying that you must agree with them, for I do not and many of this culture do not either. However, many do and you must live and work with these people for the next seven years. Be cautious, Hariel. That is all I am saying."

Harry grudgingly admitted what his cousin said made sense and he asked for the best way to go about appeasing his House Head. Nuriel had frowned when he had described his encounters with the man so far and they had spent the rest of the morning hours discussing how to win back favor with not only Professor Snape but also his fellow house members.

It was nearing ten in the morning when he ended up calling on Bucket. Not only for breakfast, which Nuriel insisted she could provide, but also so his cousin could see the curious creature. Over a rather delicious meal of porridge and hot honey bread, Hariel got the pleasure of watching Nuriel question the elf on everything from her peoples history to how she felt about it's enslavement (Bucket not be wanting any clothes, sirs!) to if the marks on her head ever itched.

Poor Bucket didn't seem to know what to do with the attention, looking at Harry every few minutes for reassurance. When he'd dismissed her, he thought the House elf was going to cry out of relief. They were still discussing how it was that Charter magic could be used to have done such a thing when they made their way out into the alleyway behind the tavern. He watched curiously as Nuriel brought his forefinger to his mouth, blowing on it before tapping a series of bricks on the wall before them.

What happened next seemed right out of the fantasy books that Harry so often read at home. While his cousin easily made his way through the crowded place Harry almost lost him twice, so distracted was he by the colorful people and strange places around him. Eventually, Nuriel had taken by his hand to keep him from wandering off. Harry had immediately ripped his hand away, blushing furiously at the idea of being led around like a toddler.

The alley curved before splitting, a large white and strangely crooked building constructed in the middle of the fork. Harry stopped mid-step, eyes wide as he stared at the Charter marks that were running across the outside of the building so fast he could hardly register what they were. By his side, Nuriel whistled quietly.

"Old magic." He said softly. "There must be a Charter stone nearby for them to be able to keep it up."

"Can they not see it?" Harry asked, confused as why none of the people around him seemed aware of the constantly shifting outside. Nuriel shook his head, explaining that because Charter magic had been mostly forgotten here it seems as though precautions had been taken to keep people from noticing it. The bank was even more layered on the inside, the very floor was laid in a repeating mark for binding. Harry stopped short once again when he caught sight of the hundred or so booths in the reception area manned with fierce, wrinkled creatures.

_And I thought House elves were ugly! _

A smack on the back of the head followed by a sharp rebuke from Nuriel to stop being impolite and close his mouth had Harry blushing once again. "They're goblins," His cousin explained as they moved towards an empty booth. "And it seems like they rather don't like thieves."

That was a bit of understatement Harry thought as he stared at the Charter marks that lined_ everything. _There was hardly a space that didn't have a mark laid into it. It would take one of the Shiners themselves to steal something from this place!

"How?" Was all that Harry managed, resisting the urge to bend down and study the symbols that were racing around his feet, ready to bind him in place if need be.

"Charter mages, I suspect." Nuriel said absent mindedly before greeting the goblin in booth. Harry shook his head. Why did goblins remember Charter magic if humans didn't? He didn't even think that someone who wasn't human could even _do _Charter magic. But as his cousin passed over the key to his vault, Harry clearly saw a mark of verification slip from the goblin's clawed finger as he examined the key. And later, after they'd been pushed onto a rather unsteady looking cart, it was Charter magic that sent them racing into the deep below.

Even moving at a breakneck speed, it still took them some time to arrive at the vault Harry's parents had left for him. After some bickering with the goblin on how much to take out (the goblin seemed rather displeased that they were taking any out at all) and Harry was handed a rather full bag.

The clearly disgruntled goblin had snapped at them, asking if they were going to just go ahead and clear out their other vault as well. Nuriel had frowned, explaining that they only had a key to one vault. He could see from the murderous expression on his cousin's face that he thought the Headmaster had kept this second vault from them. Nuriel had refused to talk about what had happened with Dumbledore, only saying that they had exchanged words and he had found the old man's manners rather lacking.

The goblin simply stared at them as if they were stupid and then leaned across the cart, pressing his finger against Harry's Charter mark. It flared brightly, making Harry's stomach drop out slightly before he thought to bring his own finger up to the goblin's forehead. His skin was scaly, which surprised Harry as he thought it would be leathery, and as he watched a mark emerged, a baptismal that he'd never seen before and flared unsullied beneath his finger.

"There." The goblin snapped and then the cart shot forward once more. They went even deeper then before, the air becoming colder and colder as they descended. Finally, when Harry thought that if they went any further they would fall into the bowls of the earth itself, the cart stopped before a large, iced over door. The Potter family vault had been numbered 687, but this vault bore only two digits; 28. He glanced questionably at his cousin, but Nuriel's face gave nothing away and so instead Harry watched the goblin scurry about the vault door.

Free and Charter magic flared in succession as the ice melted away from the door. The goblin leaned forward, resting the palm of his hand flat on the metal before it let out a loud creaking noise and fell away. The vault was large enough for the two of them to walk into it. Nuriel sent out marks for light and after a moment, Harry followed, enjoying the ease at which they flew from his fingers.

_Definitely a Charter stone here somewhere. _

Harry gasped as he stared at the expansive vault. There was practically a library around them, the bookcases interrupted sporadically by large closed cupboards and armoires. There was a thick rug at there feet and a dining set to his left as well as a large fire place that roared to life as Nuriel approached it. Harry wandered around, eyes widening even further when he realized that the vault actually branched to the left. It led to an armory which immediately had Harry drooling. He moved to a set of scale armors, his fingers itching to put it on as he traced it.

There were weapons to his immediate left. Three different blades that were Charter inscribed and a set of short dirks that immediately caught Harry's attention. A Charter sending flared to life behind Harry, making him cry out and jump as it touched his shoulder. It bowed before gesturing to the wall. Long aquatinted with the strange way that Charter sendings communicated, Harry shook his head.

"No, thank you. I don't think I'll be allowed to take anything down." The sending nodded and disappeared. He returned to the main part of the vault, staring at closed door that was tucked away in a corner and surprised to find Nuriel missing.

"There's a bedroom up here." His cousin said from above him before descending the stairs to stand next to him. Nuriel's expression was tight. His cousin simply turned to look at the goblin. "Was an Abhorsen living here?"

The goblin nodded mutely and Nuriel's face grew even darker. Harry bit the bottom of his lip in confusion. "Is that bad?"

"It means they lost their ancestral House. It would have been similar to our own." Nuriel said with a sigh. "It also means that they were hiding here. Hariel…we still do not know why your line disappeared over here for so many years. I am the eighty eighth Abhorsen, yet when you come of age, you will be only the ninth."

His words instantly sobered Harry. "You mean you think they could have been hiding here?"

"It is not out of the question. The goblins are similar to the vampire you met earlier; they owe a great debt to the Abhorsen line. They could have easily harbored an Abhorsen here. And with the laws against necromancy being as old as they are, the government here could have easily hunted your line out of existence."

"Cutter," The goblin, who had remained silently at the door, stepped forward. "Tell me what happened to the Abhorsen who lived here."

"That would be Abhorsen Cathreal." The goblin said tightly. "She left against our advice and never returned."

Harry couldn't help but shudder, suddenly understanding in full why he could not wear his standard. Nuriel shook his head, the grim expression only growing darker as he looked around the vault.

"I take it you will keep silent about Hariel's arrival?" Cutter recoiled as if he'd been slapped, ugly features twisting into an offended look on his face. Nuriel instantly moved to smooth the insulted goblin. "Forgive me. Of course you will."

"Cousin." Harry breathed, eyes locked on a pedestal at the other end of the vault. He moved to it, mouth slightly agape as he realized it was in fact what he thought it was. "A copy of the Book of the Dead."

Nuriel was at his side in an instant, carefully opening the glass case and taking out the leather tome. He opened it and began testing the bindings on it before nodding. "It's authentic. You may take it with you, but you must keep it on you at all times."

Harry nodded eagerly, tucking the book into his leather bag. His very own copy! He had been dreading that his education would lack because he would no longer have access to it as he once had. Next to him Nuriel nodded to a small pedestal to their left. This one had an ornate wooden box resting on it.

"Open it." Nuriel instructed. Harry reached for it, only to wince as a spark of red energy snapped at his fingers. He brought them to his mouth, sucking on them as he pulled his gloves on and tried again. Inside was a wand of dark wood, a single Charter symbol carved around the handle. The inside of the lid bore an inscription: _Rowan and Thestral flesh, 11 ¾"_

"Cousin, what's a Thestral?"

"I have no idea." Nuriel mused, "Something associated with the Dead, I'm sure. A family heirloom. Convenient, you need a wand for school."

Harry nodded and picked up the wand, nearly dropping it as red and golden sparks flew from the end. Nuriel, who had reared away from the explosion of Free magic, shook his head.

"It's a bound item, Hariel. Look at the Charter mark on the handle. Like our instruments and the swords. A Wallmaker most likely made it for them. Treat it well." He held a holster in his hand and Harry gently slid the wand into it, staring at it reverently. Nuriel rolled his eyes before reaching down and removing Harry's belt. As he watched, his cousin rearranged his dirk and seax, slipping their frogs so they were on his right side before attaching the holster so it hung to his left.

"If I remember correctly you are proficient with fighting with your left hand as well, correct?" Harry nodded, watching in fascination as his cousin secured his belt on once more. "I will have to arrange for a dueling instructor to take over that part of your education. I was shocked you find that your school does not teach martial abilities."

"Yes, Cousin."

"I haven't found your family's bells, Hariel. But there is a broken set in the bedroom. I will take it with me and try to repair them for you."

"Thank you, Cousin."

"Go and pick out one of your family's dirks to so I may take mine home with me. And no, you may not take any armor or one of the longswords. Something that imbibed with Charter magic is bound to get noticed."

Fifteen minutes later and they were standing outside of the vault, Harry with a new wand and dirk and Nuriel with a bag full of books. Before they left, the goblin Cutter pointed out a ring that had been resting on the dining table. It bore the symbol of the Abhorsen line laid in precious stone; a deep emerald with a single, tiny diamond key set in the middle. It was something called a portkey. Yet another way of Wizarding travel, it would apparently bring him to the vault instantly if so needed.

Nuriel had given it to Harry with strict instruction to keep it on him always and use it only in the case of an emergency. He felt better with it. Hearing how his line most likely been hunted down had not assuaged his fears on remaining here alone. And then after another long and rather step climb, they found their way back out into the sunshine.

Harry let out a sigh as he felt Free magic assault his senses once more. It's effects on him were already lessening, thankfully, but he missed the warmth of the Gringotts' Charter Stone like a physical ache. The rest of the shopping trip passed rather quickly. He had been fascinated by Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, a potion supply shop. He could have browsed the seemingly never ending potion ingredients all day. Unfortunately they only need three things from the place, including dragon hide gloves, which had sent Harry off on a tizzy ("_Dragons? Real Dragons?")_ But Nuriel bad mood seemed to only have gotten worse and so they left quickly.

They spent quite a bit of time in Flourish and Blotts. The cramped bookstore had an astonishing selection and in addition to his school books, Harry walked out with several others. Even Nuriel purchased a book on the magical education in Europe. Some of his purchases, like _Magical Me: A Guide to Your New Self From One Whose Been Where You Are Now _and _A Wizard's Guide to the Muggle World _where solely to try and curb some of his ignorance of this world. Others, like the a set that Nuriel had bought about vampires were to be read immediately, to help Harry lie about where he'd been.

The back story had been explained to him as they shopped. Nuriel was a researcher who study vampires and after some time, was accepted into their society. He spent most of his time visiting the various reserves across the world. Sometimes Harry accompanied him but most often he spent his time in the Northern England Vampire reserve.

It was a simple enough story, but somehow Harry couldn't help but feel like would be immensely hard to keep up.

Their last stop was to purchase a large trunk, of which they instantly dropped their purchases. He had inquired about clothing, but outside of the school robes and other necessities, Nuriel had informed him that the Vampires were making him a wardrobe. He had stared at his cousin when had told him that.

"Do they often do that kind of thing?"

Nuriel shrugged. "I have no idea. Perhaps they've just taken a liking to you."

The last thing that was purchased was a subscription to the local and international papers at Nuriel's insistence.

"You've got to stay up to date on important goings on, Hariel. Your safety may depend on it." His cousin had explained as they hauled his purchases back to the tavern. That had sent him brooding all the way back to Hogsmeade. He'd been told a lot today and very little of it made him feel comfortable. He waited until they were once more walking towards Hogwarts, the vampires quite a bit of a head of them with his purchases to speak his fears.

"Am I in danger here?" Nuriel steps slowed until they were walking side by side, but said nothing. Quickly, Harry rambled on. "I mean, you say the government will execute me if the find out what I can do and with the vault-" he found he couldn't finish that sentence. Couldn't bring himself to say it was clear that they had killed off the last Abhorsen they had.

Harry had to force himself to say the next few words. "And you said…you said when you took me from Death you'd felt something trying to come back through. And if it's Voldemort, do you think he'll come after me?"

His cousin's silence was all the confirmation he needed. They were growing closer to Hogwarts but the cheery looking castle only made Harry feel dread. As they approached the front entryway, Harry couldn't help it. He begged his cousin to take him home.

"Please, Cousin. I'm not ready for this. I don't know – I don't know anything about anything!" Nuriel sighed, suddenly looked years older. His hand reached out and cupped Harry's check, the leather of his gloves warm to the touch.

"I'd take you home in a heartbeat if I could. Do you think it does not kill me to leave you in such a place?" Nuriel shook his head. "I will not sleep a night you are away. But the Clayr were very clear about your need to be here. I have asked your House Head to look out for you-"

"But he hates me!" Harry cried loudly, forgetting himself momentarily. Nuriel shushed him, the hand on his check pinching it before dropping to his shoulder.

"He may not like you, but he will not allow one of his charges to die. He is a man of duty, Hariel. Whether you can see that or not does not matter. Sanguina and his vampires will be looking after you as well. He has promised me to stop by twice a month." Nuriel gestured towards the vampires standing nearby. "And Misha and Vetter will be around the grounds more often then not."

Harry hung his head miserably, barely keeping further pleas from escaping his lips. There was a heavy silence between them before his cousin pulled him into a stiff hug.

"If anything happens – anything at all – I want you to go to the vault. And let the vampires know if you can, Sanguina has a way to contact me if he thinks things are going poorly for you."

And then he pulled away. Nuriel did not look back as he reached the vampires. Nor did he falter in his step as they made their way down the path. He didn't even look back as they reached the bend that would take them from sight.

Harry watched him leave mutely, shivering slightly in the cool fall air. Suddenly he felt terribly young and alone and not nearly as up for an adventure as he thought he had been just a week before. But Nuriel did not come back around the bend, no matter how long he waited.

* * *

Don't worry, Harry will get braver. He's just a little overwhelmed right now. Plus, an adult is actually telling him the truth. "Yes, there is some baddy under your bed and it's trying to eat you." I wonder how canon Harry would have acted in the first book if someone had been up front with him.

Add in the fact and he's pretty much lived his life so far in the safety of a closed off house and this is all bit much for him. Give him a few weeks of mundane school work and time to get use to the Free magic and goings on and he'll be much braver. He's had a bit of a rough day.

About Charter Stones. Think of a Charter Stone as a super blessed stone that serves as a channeling rod for Charter magic. They come in many different sizes (the one under Gringotts is a Great Charter Stone, quite large indeed) and they make using the Charter easier and similarly can make using Free magic more difficult.

Most Charter symbols are hidden in the HP world, due to the fact that everyone's pretty much forgotten about them and it's easier that way. Harry is actually connected to the Charter via his blood line and so he and Nuriel can see them regardless.

Please review!


	6. Of Observations and Friendships

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything recognizable.

**Warnings: **Necromancer!Harry, Slytherin!Harry, slightly spoiled!Harry, socially inept!Harry, abusive!Dursleys, semi-Manpulative!Dumbledore, possible!Snarry or Severitus, death, dead things, violence, cursing. There will be romance, though don't know with who. And it will be a while for _any _romance to take place (Harry is only eleven for now).

Rough copy, sorry bout mistakes.

* * *

"It's always better to be doing, Prince. Besides, you don't smell like a coward, so you can't be one."  
- The Disreputable Dog

**Abhorsen**

**Chapter 6**

_Of Observations_

1992 – September 1st

From his spot, Severus watched the Potter boy.

His entire heather root stock had gone missing (he blamed those damn House elves, they ate it like candy, though they'd never admit to it.) A minor annoyance but considering that the first potion of the year required it, it was something he had to fix and so he'd been forced to go down to one of the greenhouses to get more. He had been ready to verbally assault the boy for wasting time when he should be in class, especially since he'd missed the most of the entirety of his first day. But the moment he'd seen the boy's face he'd found himself slipping into the shadows nearby.

Hariel Potter was nothing like what he had been expecting. And to be frankly honest, he had been expecting another James Potter. At the very least he'd expected a spoiled little boy, allowed to stew in his own fame. Perhaps it was too early to tell, but it seemed as if Hariel lacked that instinctive Potter swagger. He did rather look like his father in the face, but his coloring was so vastly different that it was hard to see if one didn't really look for it. He cut a rather dramatic figure Severus had to admit, outlined by the light of the entryway and dressed as if he'd walked straight out of some gothic tapestry.

The boy looked incredibly vulnerable. So lost and defeated as he stood there, staring down the main road. Severus almost felt like a voyeur, which was ridiculous considering how long he'd lived and worked at the school. But he couldn't rid of himself of the feeling. Nor could he bring himself to move.

And so he found himself watching Hariel Potter's grief, a jar of heather root forgotten in his hands, until the boy finally turned and went inside.

* * *

_Of Friendships_

1992 – September 4th

School was as terrible as Harry feared it would be. No one talked to him. It had been a solid forty-eight hours since his arrival and not one person had said something to him outside of what was required in class. And while he found his introduction to Free magic rather promising (now that the general feeling of nausea had faded to nothing more then discontentment, he found the concepts quite fascinating) he had rather hoped to make friends. And though Theodore Nott seemed content to partner up with him, the acerbic boy all but disappeared the moment class ended.

The rest of his House seemed content to give him the cold shoulder, with the first years ignoring him completely (he could thank Draco for most of it) and the upper years usually content to watch him with a mixture of amusement and scorn. The rest of the school seemed content with avoiding him like the plague. He had noticed that Slytherin's weren't the most popular house in school but it seemed particularly unforgivable in his case.

Why it was such an egregious crime, Harry was unsure. But it seemed to apply to the faculty as well. The most obvious case was his House Head, who seemed to hate Harry with a particular passion, though it wasn't limited to said Professor alone. Professor McGonagall seemed to be incapable of looking at him without a stern frown.

But it wasn't just Hogwarts. The Tuesday morning papers had hammered in a terrible reality. He was like royalty here. The Wizarding world seemed as interested in his going on as the papers back home did about Sulyn and Aunt Anelle. However, they seemed to lacked the respect that those back home had. The article had been on the front page, speaking at length about Harry – and even his cousin – with a detail play by play of his arrival at the Sorting Ceremony. It had also mentioned, though it didn't really explain why it was such a bad thing, that he had been sorted into Slytherin. The few people the newspaper had interviewed seemed very displeased.

Harry was mortified and more then a little confused. Torrigan was thoroughly amused.

"What's wrong?" The cat had questioned with a snigger. "Don't like your new celebrity? I thought you wanted renown."

That had earned the cat a well deserved kick and to show his anger, the little black cat had not made an appearance for the rest of the day. Despite himself, Harry found him missing the foul presence. Torrigan's abuse was almost comforting, a part of his life for as long as he could remember. He could deal with that. He had hoped that he would have some relief from the nearly overwhelming air of disapproval in the tutors that Nuriel had arranged for him and as Wednesday rolled around, he allowed himself a small bit of hope.

Alas, it was not to be so, as it turned out that Professor Snape had been the one who selected them and the man had chosen teachers as dour as himself. His English and Latin tutor was a severe woman by the name of Collin with hair pulled so tightly in a bun it lifted her entire face up. She had a sneer to rival his House Head's and had quickly declared him completely 'brainless.' His mathematics tutor, a Meneer Van Zandt, was a strange old man who smelled very strongly of menthol and dressed solely in orange, seemed more interested in speaking with Harry about the 'old days during the war' then actually teaching him math.

The only bright spot was his dueling instructor, who was to teach him both sword and wand play. A German man named Fuchs, who spoke with an accent so heavy that it was hard for Harry to understand him. It was clear that he thought Harry's previous instruction was completely rubbish and had given him what had to be the most scathing dress down of his abilities he'd ever heard. Still, Harry was excited at the thought of improving his sword skills. It was an essential skill for an Abhorsen. How many times had his cousin Nuriel's stories ended with him being saved by such skills?

But as dinner rolled around once more and Harry found himself sitting almost completely isolated, with Theodore sitting across from him in dead silence as he ate, he could not help but feel a biting disappointment and a rather all encompassing feeling of doom. He abandoned his shepherd's pie half way through and made his way – yet again – to the library.

Harry found himself spending more and more of his free time among the towering book shelves. It was better then sitting in the awkwardness of the Slytherin common room and sometimes, if Harry buried himself deep enough, he could almost pretend he was back home, curled up in his favorite arm chair.

He was not the only one who had taken refuge there. He saw a group of Ravenclaw's quite often. The House was fairly common to see in the library in general, but this group came fairly religiously. There was also a lone Gryffindor that Harry recalled from class as being named Hermione who there almost as often as he. The bushy haired girl kept to herself though, giving Harry covert stares when she thought he was preoccupied.

The Gryffindor was in the library once more, busily working through a large tome as she muttered to herself. She did that quite often and Harry couldn't help but find it strange and he quickly made his way past the girl. The Ravenclaw's were there as well, sneaking food from a napkin as they did their homework.

Harry felt a pang of jealousy as the table let out a series of smothered laughs, trying hard not to watch them as he set himself up at his usual table, tucked just slightly in the corner but still close enough to the bewitched fire to be quite comfortable in the drafty place. He had hoped to make friends here, that this place would not hold the same all encompassing loneliness as home. But it seemed…

Harry shook the sad thoughts way, resolutely opening his English book and beginning his exercises. Perhaps he was meant to be a loner. Which was fine. He was used to being alone. He would do perfectly fine. It would give him more time to study. Between having tutoring three times a week (twice, both weekend days, for Fuchs) and his school work, plus his individual study of his Charter spell books and his review of the Book of the Dead, Harry would have very little free time anyway.

Besides, this place was dangerous. Nuriel's silence haunted him and the port key ring he wore around his neck was like a constant reminder of just how unsafe this place was. How was Harry ever going to survive it if he didn't learn as much as he could as fast as he could?

No, it was much better this way. He'd done just fine so far without friends. He'd be fine.

By the time he finished the introductory essay to Collin about his strength and weakness with the written word and moved on to his Latin, he'd almost managed to convince himself. Almost.

Harry had made his way through all of his introductory tutoring assignments (they were much harder then he'd thought they'd be, apparently having a cat for an instructor had left his education lacking) and was finally managing to move onto his Charms assignment when Torrigan dug his claws rather fiercely into Harry's legs. Yelping, he glared down at the black cat, kicking him lightly with his foot.

"What was that for, you stupid prat?" Torrigan said nothing, which was unlike him. The cat usually spoke as often as he could, as if he wanted to be caught. There had already been some odd looks from his dorm mates. Torrigan stretched out on his back, staring pointedly in front of them. Harry looked up just in time to see a rather irate Ravenclaw slam his books down on the table, pulling the chair across from Harry out with gusto before sitting down.

"You don't mind if I join you, do you?" The boy asked sharply, nearly slamming his Charms textbook open. Harry shook his head, staring at the angry boy with wide eyes. "We have Charms together. I'm Michael Corner."

"Uh. Yes. Hello." Harry finally managed, wincing at how stupid he sounded, taking the offered hand. The grip was strong and he couldn't help but notice the various scars that crisscrossed it.

"Right, let's work on Charms then." Michael said as he snagged Harry's parchment from the table. He tsked and shook his head. "You've got it all wrong. There are seventeen basic principles to Charms, not fifteen. Hold on," He reached over, long fingers flipping through the pages of Harry's textbook. Once again Harry found himself staring at the jagged white marks. The fingers stopped and then jabbed at book angrily. "There you go."

Harry blinked and nodded. "Thanks." He reached for a new piece of parchment – but Charter! Not being able to use his magic meant that he went through quite a few.

"Wait a moment." Michael said, pulling his wand out. "_Deletus_!"

His parchment leapt a bit from the table and then settled back down, completely blank. "Thanks. I'll have to remember that one."

Michael nodded stiffly and they both started on their homework again. Harry couldn't help but be distracted. Mainly because the entire Ravenclaw table was gapping at the two of them. One of them was even shaking his head and pointing to his neck repeatedly as he whispered to those around him. After a few minutes of this, Michael slammed his quill down and spun in his chair.

"_What?"_ He snapped. The boy froze mid gesture, his fingers pointing at his throat. "Oh don't be an idiot, Terry. He has absolutely no signs of being a vampire! I'm surprised you made into Ravenclaw! The lot of you!" And then he spun back around, face red. "Ignore them, Harry. They seem to think the fact that you grew up on a Reserve and was sorted into Slytherin makes you dark."

Harry had already learned that dark equaled evil in this world. And if you considered the stock he came from he was most certainly dark. He watched the Ravenclaw wearily. "And you don't?"

"You can be Dark without being _dark_." Michael stated, rolling his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Which I don't really think you are. And certainly being sorted in to a House," He threw a glare over his shoulder, his next few words louder then his usually library voice, "- a system which doesn't exist outside of this school I might add, means nothing."

"Oh." Harry was a little unsure of what to take of this situation. "Thanks."

"Nothing of it." Michael dismissed with a wave, starting back on his Charms. "Let's hurry up and get our homework finished. We have astronomy at midnight and my cousin said if we're late we don't get the good seats." Black eyes looked up at him questioningly, "You are going to be my partner, aren't you?"

"S-Sure."

"Good." The Ravenclaw said with a sharp nod. "Let me see your Charm's essay before you finish it. I'll proof read it for you."

Harry stared at the brunette for a moment in confusion, not quite sure what had just taken place before nodding and turning to his own homework, a small smile on his face. Perhaps he'd have a friend after all, if Michael didn't make up with his friends. All though he knew it was unsporting he hoped the row would last a very long time indeed.

It turned out the row lasted for the rest of the week, which Harry couldn't help but feel slightly guilty about. He knew the reason why the Ravenclaws were avoiding Michael was because of him. It had gotten so bad that they'd taken to eating next to each other at meals, halfway turned towards the aisle so they could speak with each other. It was clear that being around Harry meant getting maltreated by the entire school. It would probably be best for the other boy to avoid him entirely and he'd told him as much at Saturday's dinner. Michael had promptly told him to sod off.

"I don't care." He'd said between bites of his desert, throwing a dirty look at his table. "If they want to act so spectacularly stupid then I don't want to be friends with them. You're stuck with me, Potter. You don't mind, do you?"

Of course he didn't. He'd never had a friend before and he found it a pleasurable experience all and all. The other boy was a wealth of information on the Wizarding world and was more then willing to correct and answer any questions that Harry had. So was Torrigan, surprisingly. But the cat was refusing to speak to Harry again now that he'd demanded he rein in his speech when in places someone could possibly over hear. Draco Malfoy was giving them way too many suspicious looks lately.

It wasn't a great loss.

It was a good thing that the other boy enjoyed spending as much time as he did in the library, or else Harry figured their friendship wouldn't work. As it stood, Michael had even taken to helping Harry with his tutoring and between the two of them he usually ended up with some matter of free time. Free time, which for the first time in his life, was spent goofing off with another child his own age.

It was absolutely marvelous.

Harry desperately hoped Michael wouldn't make up with his friends and leave him. He didn't know if he could go back to being alone now that he knew what it felt like to be friends with someone. Still, Michael was almost too sharp for his own good and Harry had often found himself being watched by those calculating black eyes. It made him nervous, how the other boy watched him. Almost like a puzzle that needed to be solved.

But still. Harry would rather risk the exposure of his lies then give up Michael's friendship. Especially as the Ravenclaw had promised to tutor him in Potions. Harry had turned out to be completely dismal in the subject, something painfully clear despite it being only the first week of class.

Class with his House Head had been a disaster, with the man picking apart everything Harry did. He'd nearly had a nervous breakdown after his first session, locking himself in one of the boy's lavatories for a half hour afterwards. Torrigan had been surprisingly kind, licking at his frustrated tears and burrowing his head underneath Harry's chin each time it ducked too low.

Michael had come to find him shortly after, a smuggled chocolate milk in one hand and a copy of his notes in the other. Apparently he'd heard about the debacle from the Gryffindor in the library. He'd explained that he'd asked around and found that Snape hated everyone fairly equally and was generally a giant ass to all, especially Gryffindors and at least he didn't have that going against him. But even Michael had whistled at Harry's retelling of the lesson.

"He usually pampers his own House members." Michael had said with some puzzlement. And then upon seeing the way Harry's face crumpled at that he threw his hands up, a panicked expression on his face. "He's just crazy! Don't take it personality, mate."

But Harry did. And it bothered him. He'd never had anyone simply loathe him for existing, which seemed to be what was happening. He decided he would take Michael's advice and keep his head down as much as possible. He was here to learn anyway. What did it matter if his House Head didn't like him very much?

He had a friend.

With all the excitement of the first week, Harry hadn't a chance to study any of his Charter magic until late Sunday evening. It was nearly midnight when Harry cracked open the Book of the Dead, running his hands across the green leather. His panpipes laid free of his belt, the leather lip of their holder flipped open so he could see the carved wood.

It hadn't taken him long, a mere seven pages in, to notice the drastic differences. The pages were packed with both printed word and edgy scripts of the ones who had come before him, editing and re-editing what was written there. Entire concepts were introduced in the margins, (_when crafting even the most basic Free and Charter magic construct, it must only be done under a quarter and half moon_) only to be crossed out and written over (_incorrect, only under a full moon and by water) _in a brightly contrasting ink.

A lot of it reminded him of what he had seen in his limited exposure to transfigurations, almost mathematical formulas of words and symbols on how to work Charter magic with its volatile cousin. It was with not a little horror that Harry realized that he would have to start over completely. What he had memorized of the first few chapters would need to be amended or even possibly forgotten all together. By his side, Torrigan made an interesting mewing sound as he read over Harry's hand.

"…mm, interesting. I would have never thought of working it that way."

It was little comments like that which made Harry feel like there was more to Torrigan then met the eyes. Oh, he knew that the cat was anything but and Nuriel had never hidden that he was some sort of Free magic construct. But he couldn't help but feel like much more to the story, with Mogget as well. He'd never gotten his cousin to tell him anything more about their feline companions and he'd found nothing in the library. But still, he couldn't help but feel -

There was a sharp nip against his hand and Harry hissed, bringing the skin up to suck up at it. He stared down at the cat angrily. "What brought that on?"

"I'm done with this page." Torrigan replied lazily. Rolling his eyes, Harry flipped the page, pulling the large tome into his lap before loosing himself amongst the information. It was in this sense that the entire night literally passed by. By the time he'd realized what time it was (and how very little progress he'd made in the book by comparison) it was already passed the first bell.

Terror caused him to stumble out of his bed (his first class of the day was Potions and as he'd already been late once, which resulted in Snape threatening his life should it ever happen a second time) and hit the stone floor with a gasp. He scrambled to dress himself, pulling on his school uniform as he sprinted down the stairs, Torrigan's breathless cat laugh echoing behind him.

* * *

1992 – September 13th

His wrist hurt. Neville winced as he flexed it, biting his tongue to keep silent. Though Madam Pomfrey had done an amazing job of healing it, it still ached. The fact that magic didn't work on him like it should was something he had long kept secret – even from Gran. How could he not keep it a secret after seeing the way his family acted about his limited abilities? The last thing he wanted to do was add even more disappoint in their eyes.

It was bad enough that he was only a classification above from being a squib, but to think that magic didn't even work right on him would be just to much. Neville was sure his old Gran would die of shame. There was a sound in front of him and he shifted his attention back to the main reason he was hiding in the spare closet in the Charms Lab.

Harry Potter let out another curse as he glared down at the button in front of him. Even from his hiding place, Neville could see that it wasn't glowing the way it should. They were learning the most basic of lighting spells - and it was basic indeed. So much so that even Neville was capable of it. His great uncle had taught it to him when he was younger and he used it often to create a nightlight. Neville didn't mean to spy on the pale boy, per say, he just happened to be in the closet when he'd come in. And well, he didn't think he had the nerve to go out and talk with him.

Harry was a lot of different things to people here at school. There were a thousand different rumors about where he'd been and how he'd got here and what'd he do now. And Neville had carefully listened to them all. He particularly liked the one about Harry being a vampire prince of Eastern Europe, but Neville didn't put much stock in it. He also didn't believe that just because he'd been sorted into Slytherin meant that he was a bad person.

Neville wasn't popular at school, he knew this despite it being only the third week. It was painfully clear that his time here would be spent like how every other social encounter ever was – on the outside looking in. As such, he could properly appreciate how lonely Harry must be, avoided by even his own house.

Besides, Harry was the first person who'd said a kind word to him.

He'd been running dreadfully late for his charms class and it was a perfect example of Neville's luck that so was Draco Malfoy and his little gang. They weren't nearly as worried as he was about being late to class, walking leisurely down the hall. He'd tried to go back, take an even longer route to class and avoid them completely but it had been too late. Already far too familiar with the particular sneer on Malfoy's face, Neville had tried to sprint past them.

Vincent Crabbe's foot had ended that attempt rather abruptly. He'd gone sailing down the hallway, smashing into the cold floor face first and scattering his school books everywhere. He ignored their taunting (he'd gotten quite good at that in his eleven years) and had instead focused on trying to stop his bloody nose. He was so concentrated on avoiding getting blood on his shirt that he hadn't even notice Harry approach.

The pale boy seemed to be running as late as he was but despite that he'd slowed to a stop, staring at the retreating backs of the Slytherin trio with a heavy frown. Shaking his head he'd given him a once over, dark green eyes sharp in a way that made Neville feel as if he was being evaluated.

"_Draco's an overweening prat."_ He'd said with a sigh as he knelt next to him and Neville had smiled, bloody nose forgotten, feeling as if he'd passed whatever test he'd just taken. A surprisingly gentle hand gripped his chin, tilting it backwards. Harry swore and shook his head again. _"They got you good, Neville. It's not broken. Here,"_ And then he'd pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to him. _"Keep pressure on it."_

And then he'd _escorted_ him to his class, dropping him off with a nod to Professor Flitwick and a backwards wave.

He'd known from that moment, watching the dark braid swish across the other boy's retreating back with a bloody face and a startled professor at his side, that he wanted to be Harry Potter's friend.

Neville had been watching him ever since. And then, Harry had helped him after he'd fallen. The Slytherin had nearly flown as he spun around to face Draco, face livid. Neville hadn't heard all of what was said, the pain was a bit much, though he was told later that the Malfoy heir had been shocked silence that someone had dared to raise his voice to him.

What he had heard had set Neville's checks a blaze with something other then pain or embarrassment.

"_If you say one more thing, Malfoy, I will hog tie you and toss you into the mere! A mischance such as this is nothing to laugh at! For a man of your breeding I expected better!"_

He had been happy at first, that Harry was alone as he was, he was sure that it would give him a decent chance to be his friend. But then Harry _had_ made a friend, a first year Ravenclaw. He didn't know what intimidated him more, the fact that Harry had a friend now or how quickly Michael Corner had become shunned.

_If I could be Harry's friend, _Neville amended after a moment of thought, still watching Harry fail at lighting the button, _I wouldn't care if the whole school hated me._

Not for the last time, Neville wondered why the sorting hat had placed him in Gryffindor. He certainly had no courage that he knew of. With a sigh, he rubbed his wrist, letting his eyes fall from the pale form in front of him.

"I just don't understand why it won't work!" Harry suddenly cried, making Neville jump. There were tears of frustration in the other boy's eyes as he glared down at the button, running a hand through his hair and instantly ruining his braid. A sudden guilt welled up inside him. He understood more then anyone what it felt like to be trying your hardest and still fail – even when everyone else was succeeding around you.

Well, this was one thing he could help on. If Neville could learn this spell, then certainly so could Harry. Maybe if he just showed him how his great Uncle had shown him, it would work? Besides, as Uncle Algie used to say, 'Fear and courage are brothers, Nevy-boy, so if you look at like that you've got it in spades.'

He wasn't sure which one that was inspiring him now, but Neville straightened his robes and pulled the door open, intent on helping Harry however he could. An acerbic voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Perhaps you're just too stupid to understand it."

He must have let out some sort of sound, perhaps a squeak, as Harry whirled around to face him in horror. His eyes were easily nearly three times their normal size, something which looked very abnormal on such a usually drawn face. But Neville only had eyes for the little black cat. Golden eyes stared back at him unblinkingly.

"Well," The cat said with a sneer, "Aren't you a portly looking fellow."

Silence.

"That cat just talked, didn't?" Neville's voice was surprisingly calm, all things considered. Harry nodded slowly, his eyes still wide. "He does that often then?" Another nod.

"You know," The little cat said, its head cocked to the side as it watched him, "You don't have to talk about me like I'm not in the room."

"Ah, well. Of course not. My apologizes."

"Neville?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are you...quite alright?"

"I rather think so. Do I not look alright?" The pale boy shook his head. "Oh."

"Um, Neville? I am sorry about this."

He blinked in confusion, finally turning to look from the cat. There was a glowing symbol hovering in the air in front of the other boy, a strange inverted triangle surrounded by a box surrounded by circle and goodness, it was glowing. And then the world was suddenly tilting violently. The last thing he saw was Harry leaping towards him, arms outstretched.

* * *

I work a lot and really early in the morning, so it takes a bit of time to get the chapters out for the next two weeks or so. Mainly because I'm working a ton this week and then I'm on vacation with my family.

So this and the next chapter are mainly about Harry collecting his little outcast friends. No, Harry never goes after Draco on the broom. As such, his talents remain hidden…for now. What do you think?

Please review!


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